Gaining Perspective
by Ryuuko1
Summary: One of Starscream's bids for power goes awry and leaves Megatron and Optimus Prime in a situation the two would have never thought possible...
1. Chapter 1

**Author**: Second attempt at Transformers movieverse. I have no doubt that I will end up with inconsistencies on a number of points--please forgive them and feel free to correct me at any point in time. I have no idea where this idea came from...but I hope you all enjoy it! Thank you for reading, even if you don't review/favorite/alert. Just knowing people _read_ my work is flattering enough.

**Disclaimer**: I have a RotF Soundwave toy. That's it.

**Chapter 1**

Optimus woke slowly, disorientation making his head swim. His vision slowly cleared and almost immediately a sense of..._wrongness_...hit him. Everything seemed far too large. A number of other, different sensations made themselves known to him, things he really couldn't put words to—he just felt more..._fragile_. He could feel the air currents acutely, the wind caressing his body in an unfamiliar—but not unpleasant—way. Above him (too far above) he could see Earth's star hanging in the sky, and was almost hypersensitive to the fact that the photons hitting his body made it warm slightly.

There were other, less pleasant sensations that assailed his senses as well. His head hurt horribly, a pounding pain he'd only rarely experienced plaguing him. That wasn't the only pain, though. Beneath him, the ground dug into his back in uncomfortable ways, poking at suddenly sensitive areas. There was a dull, annoying thud that echoed through his body and he wished it would go away, having a hard time concentrating with the constant background noise. He shifted, and tried to get his hands under him, to help him sit up. He yelled and used some choice swear words he had learned when something _sharp_ dug into his palm. He scowled and looked at the appendage before staring dumbly at it. He sat up fully, leaning over his legs slightly as he examined his palm.

_How...how can this _be? He wondered, watching bright red liquid ooze out of a fleshy palm. He looked down at the rest of himself and he felt dread, surprise, and confusion flood his being. Small, dexterous fingers ran along chocolate-colored skin, traced contours of muscle, and explored a very, very different face. He had lips, and a nose, and ears, and eyes. He had short, wiry hair on his head, as well as a line of hair that trailed down his stomach to...his brain briefly short-circuited as he realized that he also had the human male reproductive organ. He didn't _mind_ being assigned a male body, but...the actual _physicality_ of it was...startling. Bewildering. He was completely and utterly lost, and it was a distasteful feeling to the former Autobot leader.

_How did this happen?_ He wondered. He attempted to push himself to his feet before promptly falling back onto his butt with a cut-off curse.

The balance was completely different.

After two more failed attempts at standing freely, he crawled over to a nearby tree and used it to support him onto his feet, even though the bark dug into his hands and his knees and feet were bleeding from the less-than-friendly forest floor. His legs trembled as he clung to his support, and his eyes swept around him.

It was odd, only being able to see in the 500 to 800 nanometer wavelength range.

What had he been doing anyway?

_Right. Sam was off attempting to 'vacation' with his family and I was with them, protecting them. Megatron attacked..._

Optimus felt his pulse speed up and a flood of hormones entered his system, steadying him slightly as a thought dawned on him. _Megatron. What if he...?_

With some trepidation, Optimus let go of the tree trunk. He instinctively windmilled his arms in an attempt to remain balanced, and was pleased when he was at least capable of _standing. Walking_ was a different story.

_I understand now why a child's first steps are seen as a milestone,_ Optimus thought blandly as he was forced to use the same tree to pull himself to his feet. He caught sight of a fairly large, sturdy-looking stick, and so carefully shimmied around the tree until he could pick it up. Once in his possession, he planted it firmly into the earth before taking a step, clinging to it in an attempt to keep himself upright.

A small part of him was glad that no-one was around to see the great Optimus Prime hobbling around unsteadily and naked. It would have been humiliating, and Optimus _did_ have his pride.

He made slow, steady progress towards where he _thought_ he remembered Sam's campsite being, although he had to stop for frequent rests. A biological body was much more susceptible to tiring than his former one. His progress was halted, however, when he came across a prone, naked human. He—obviously male—was unlike any human Optimus had seen before. His lithe body was all graceful lines, and his long hair was pure silver—even his eyelashes, Optimus could faintly see. His skin was a pale, pale cream, his features sharp and delicate at the same time.

Optimus poked him lightly with his walking stick, curious.

The human stirred and rolled onto his back, flinching as something unpleasant undoubtedly dug into his back. When their eyes locked, Optimus saw that his were the color of garnets—incredibly rare among humans, as far as he knew.

There was something familiar in that gaze...

"What do _you_ want, human?" the man demanded, and the voice made Optimus's new eyebrows shoot up.

"Megatron?" he asked. His own voice, too, had remained the same—thankfully.

There was a brief look of confusion at the mismatch of face and voice before the former Decepticon leader gave him smirk.

It was oddly suited to his face, which was compellingly handsome in a cold way.

Optimus idly wondered what Megatron saw when he looked at him.

Optimus watched Megatron's eyes—they had always been the most expressive part of his being—and knew when his opposite discovered all of the same things Optimus had, albeit with surprising speed—faster than he had put all the pieces together.

"Optimus," the Decepticon hissed. "What did you _do_?"

Optimus frowned. "_I_ didn't do _anything._"

"Then how are you and I trapped in these _base_ shells?"

"I _don't know._ The last thing I remember was—"

"You and I fighting. What went..." Optimus watched in intrigue as Megatron trailed off, obviously thinking hard. Optimus knew when the Decepticon had reached a conclusion from how dark his countenance became. "When I get my hands on Starscream, I am going to rid this universe of him once and for all. He has crossed the line with _this_ powerplay."

Megatron stood fluidly, making Optimus burn in envy.

He obviously was as unfamiliar with how to walk in a human body as Optimus, and after a few failures at taking steps, Optimus reached out his hand to him. Megatron gave it a look of pure disdain.

But eventually took it anyway. Once they were both steady, Optimus treated both him and Megatron to a purely objective once-over, thinking. "We cannot stay this way," he eventually stated.

Megatron gave him a look that said, 'No shit.'

"No, I mean _unclothed._"

"And where, my dear Prime, do you suggest we _obtain_ this human convention?" Megatron drawled. "Surely you don't plan on _stealing_ it."

Optimus shifted on his feet. It was a valid point.

"I also have no intention on remaining this way for long, anyway."

"We have to find a way to get to Starscream, though, and for that we will have to travel through human society. In order to get your revenge, you will need to make some concessions."

Megatron's lip curled back in a snarl. "Don't you _dare_ seek to order _me_, Prime," he told Optimus in a low growl.

That, too, was oddly suited to his new form.

Optimus cocked an eyebrow. "Wouldn't think of it. However, we need each other right now—unless you want to brave the human world on your own?"

Megatron appeared to waver. The Decepticon wasn't stupid—_egotistical_, perhaps, but not stupid. He could figure out the odds easily enough of him surviving and being able to exact his revenge alone.

Optimus knew when the Decepticon leader came to his conclusion. "Very well," he admitted grudgingly. "We will stay together—for now."

"For now," Optimus agreed. "First, though—we must find clothes in order to move around human society."

Megatron growled uncomplimentary things about human societal conventions, which Optimus ignored.

Optimus was again annoyed that Megatron seemed to have better endurance than he, and seemed to adapt to the human gait more quickly, but said nothing. It would make Megatron gloat and _that_ would make the man—ha—insufferable.

Night fell remarkably quickly, and a strange panic began to form in Optimus's gut. Perhaps it was the darkness that his eyes couldn't penetrate; perhaps it was the vulnerability of his naked body, or the bugs that seemed to delight in feasting on it. Or it could be that he had his usual arch-enemy leaning against him for support, obviously exhausted.

_Perhaps Megatron's endurance isn't as substantial as I thought._

The two of them eventually stumbled upon an abandoned campsite, one where the majority of equipment and supplies were left behind.

"They must have been driven away by our battle," Optimus observed.

"Smart for humans," Megatron sneered, but there was a weariness in his voice that he couldn't entirely conceal.

"Of which you are now one," Optimus pointed out.

_That_ particular statement earned him a glare that would have withered any other.

Optimus simply shrugged it off. "Come. Let's see if they left anything that we can use."

"And this isn't stealing?" Megatron asked, incredulous.

Optimus paused. "If they left it behind, they must not have wanted it."

"You're _justifying_ doing something that would be considered _immoral_ by your usual standards?"

Optimus sighed, his face tightening. "I want to survive."

Megatron treated him to an inscrutable look before a wry smirk formed on his face. "I see. Then, by all means, let's examine what they left behind."

The two former-Cybertronians riffled through the belongings and managed to find a few things of interest—food, a little bit of clothing, some money, and shelter. All good things for two newly-minted humans.

The next challenge they faced was exactly _how_ to get the clothes on.

"No, I think it goes the other way."

"Don't tell me what to do!"

Optimus sighed softly and held up the piece of clothing _he_ was trying to figure out. He paused and tried to recall how Sam and Mikaela dressed, frowning slightly.

Finally deciding it was probably something _Mikaela_ would wear, not Sam, he tossed the bra aside, and picked up another piece—this one he recognized a little better. It was _definitely_ a shirt. After bracing himself on a nearby tree, he pulled the shirt over his head, like he remembered seeing other humans do. With a blink, his head passed through the neck-hole and his arms found their ways through the sleeves.

_So far so good._

He looked down at his weary legs and winced as he shifted his weight, pretty sure that the soles of his feet were torn up.

_I need shoes badly, although pants and underwear would be nice, too._

Pants and underwear were, indeed, eventually located, but they could only find one pair of shoes that fit them.

Optimus sighed. He was in no mood for a confrontation, and if he insisted on having the shoes, he knew a fight would ensue that would most likely harm them both beyond what they knew how to deal with, so he tossed the shoes to Megatron, who caught them with a suspicious look.

"If I took them for myself, you'd eventually take them from me via force—and as I have enough pain from the day, I figure adding such hurt as you would give me would be...ill-advised."

Megatron's eyebrows slowly rose and he gave the shoes a wary look.

"They _aren't_ rigged," Optimus replied to the look, slightly annoyed. "I'm not a _Decepticon_, afterall."

Megatron snorted. "You are still my _enemy_."

Optimus sighed. "Do you _want_ to continue to leave bloody footprints in your wake?"

_That_ seemed to be enough to convince the Decepticon to use socks they found along with shoes. Optimus had to settle for socks, but figured that once they reached a human settlement that they'd be able to acquire some more useful tools to help them hide among their new race.

Optimus voiced a strange sound that had Megatron looking at him in suspicion as Optimus tried to puzzle out what had just happened.

"I have heard that sound before," Optimus said slowly.

Megatron shook his head and sighed softly. "How is it that _I_ have less experience with humans and can tell _you_ that you just _laughed_? What is so funny anyway?"

"We hid in plain sight as vehicles and modes of transportation that humans see and use every day when Cybertronians—now we are attempting to hide among them as humans with considerably more difficulty. I find it...ironic."

Megatron paused, snorted, and shook his head. "_You_ hid among them, Autobot. I have never debased myself to that level."

Optimus rolled his eyes.

Megatron startled slightly and pressed a hand to his stomach, looking completely off-guard and bewildered, which reminded Optimus of a time when they weren't quite enemies yet...

"What's wrong?"

"My torso made a funny noise and I feel...I'm not sure how to describe it."

Optimus frowned, about to ask further questions when his own stomach protested the lack of food it had received, which made Optimus blink, then smile slightly. "Megatron, you're _hungry_."

"What?" the Decepticon asked, obviously confused. There was a curiosity in his voice that, if one didn't know him well, would be completely dismissed or mistaken for disdain. But, Optimus could tell that Megatron was more intrigued by his new human body than he cared to let on.

_He always was one for new and unique experiences,_ Optimus thought with no small amount of amusement. "You need to eat food," Optimus explained. With the help of his walking stick, he made it to the pack that they had discovered what Optimus had recognized as food and rifled through it. None of it was familiar, but he had very little experience with human food, aside from the occasional cooking show he had watched online when bored.

But, he could read the packaging, and he knew granola bars were food, so he took one out for both himself and Megatron. He had a feeling it wouldn't be enough, but it would at least fix the gnawing protest in his gut.

"Here," Optimus said and deliberately tossed the bar when Megatron was trying to figure out how to tie the shoelaces. The former Decepticon looked up in time for the bar to smack into his forehead, making the Decepticon growl darkly and scowl at Optimus, one hand lightly rubbing the spot where he had been hit.

"You will pay for that later," Megatron promised. "What _is_ this anyway?" he asked, picking up the packaging.

"I know it is food. What _kind_ of food...I am unsure," Optimus murmured as he struggled with the packaging. "You do not eat the shiny plastic on the outside," he mentioned absently, guessing that Megatron would simply try to eat the entire thing. "You...take it...off..._somehow_." Such delicate work with his fingers was a challenge, as he wasn't used to dealing with something quite so small or with such resilience.

Megatron was the one to figure out the trick for opening the package, and Optimus followed his example, peeling back to covering to reveal a small, tan, brittle-looking bar. Optimus thought back to how Sam or one of the soldiers would eat and, with some hesitation, took a small part of the bar in his mouth and bit down. He was mildly surprised at the crunch, but even more so at the flavors. He...Cybertronians didn't _have_ tongues, so while he had heard some of the soldiers complain about how bad army food tasted, he had never quite understood what they had meant. This...he didn't really have words in his lexicon to describe the tastes because he had never actually _tasted _something before. He moved his jaw up and down, and with the help of saliva his body naturally produced, broke down the granola bar into pieces he could swallow. A lot of the process was reflexive, but he found each step fascinating.

It did a _little_ to assuage his hunger, but not much, so he continued to take small, manageable bites. He could tell when Megatron reluctantly followed his example from the small, surprised sound the former Decepticon made.

Strangely comfortable silence fell in the small campsite, and Optimus was almost sad to finish the granola bar. It had been a...unique experience, and he looked forward to exploring more of what his new human digestive track could experience.

Unfortunately, after eating he was...thirsty? He believed that was the word. When humans became thirsty they _drank_ something.

_But, what...?_

Optimus rifled through the pack again, and picked out a plastic bottle filled with clear liquid. The label said 'Poland Spring Water', and he figured from how the seal had yet to be broken, the contained water was drinkable. He twisted the cap like he remembered seeing Sam down and with a small snap the cap came off.

_Must remember—do not inhale the water._

He had seen the effects of Sam drinking water a little too fast, resulting in him inhaling a little, which sent him into a coughing fit until his body felt his respiratory track was clear of the liquid. Optimus idly hoped that his body would prove to have an instinct on this bit as well.

Thankfully, to an extent, it did. He had to semi-consciously stop breathing in order for the water to go down the right entrance, but otherwise he was fine.

When he tossed Megatron the water bottle (who caught it, giving Optimus a withering glare in the process), he took subtle pleasure in how the former Decepticon sputtered and coughed until he figured out what Optimus had quasi-known.

"How often do we have to do that?" Megatron muttered unhappily, looking at the water bottle with extreme distaste.

"Most humans have food three times every day."

"_Every day?_" Megatron said, surprise lacing his voice. "I suppose that is why they have such massive landfills, the wasteful beings."

"Megatron, it's no longer 'they'. _You_ are a human now, _too._"

Megatron snarled. "Just because I may have the body of one does not mean I _am one._"

The Decepticon had a point.

"Nonetheless, it might be prudent to refrain from such statements."

Megatron shook his head, and Optimus was struck with how much more _expressive_ the human countenance could be. Before, Optimus had needed to rely almost entirely on posture and eyes to divine what the particular Cybertronian sitting near him was feeling, but now...his emotions and thoughts were much more evident.

Optimus idly wondered if the same was true for him. He could tell Megatron was pondering something from how he was resting his chin on the back of his hands, elbows braced on his knees. His hair gleamed in the moonlight and his red eyes glowed ever so faintly. The image was oddly compelling.

"What are you plotting?"

Megatron looked at him, his lips quirked up slightly in an expression of pure innocence. "Me? Plot? I'm _wounded_. What would make you say that?"

Optimus snorted in derision. "It is in your face. What are you planning?"

There was a brief silence before the Decepticon leader spoke: "Tell me, Prime. Say we do manage to incorporate ourselves into the human hive. What do we do then? Your silly morals will not allow us to survive off of taking what we need without concern for the humans from whom we take. How do we proceed in finding Starscream and take him down when we are so weak and small? How do we achieve returning to our true forms?" Megatron sighed softly, obviously frustrated.

Silence fell as both Cybertronian leaders thought, Optimus leaning against a tree, his walking stick propped against his shoulder.

"I am not sure," Optimus said mournfully. "Perhaps..." When Megatron didn't butt in to make some snide comment about Optimus's lack of knowledge, it subtly frightened the Autobot. He tried to calm the annoying pounding in his chest (_heartbeat, it's called a heartbeat and if I want to live, I need to make sure it stays beating)_ and listen. Megatron could not have walked away without him knowing.

Instead, all Optimus heard was calm, even, slow breathing. He squinted into the darkness until he saw the human-Megatron leaning against a tree of his own, eyes closed, and quite obviously asleep.

Optimus found himself smiling fondly, and quickly removed the expression from his face.

_He's...somehow _softer_ when asleep. The constant edge of anger and pride is gone, and with his almost _pretty_ visage...it is very different. He'll probably freak out tomorrow over having lost hours that he could have been doing something in._

Optimus chuckled softly and tried to settle himself as comfortably as possible against his tree, closing his own eyes. Sleep in a human body promised to be an...interesting...experience.

–

Optimus distantly felt something poking at him and idly swatted it away, quite content to be drifting lazily on warm, languid currents of sleep.

"_Optimus,_" a voice hissed in his ear, and the voice dragged him to wakefulness, since it was usually connected with danger. His eyes snapped open to find himself looking into deep ruby ones. _That_ caused him to start, which scrapped his back against the tree and made him hit his head against the unmoving object.

The face backed away from his, a smug expression on it. "For yesterday," Megatron purred, making Optimus glare at him. The Decepticon sat back on his heels and gave Optimus a considering look. "I have been thinking about our...situation. You know much more about these beasts than I, so I have a few questions."

"They are _not_ beasts."

Megatron ignored the statement, "Neither you nor I look typical, do we?"

"I know _you_ do not—I cannot see myself."

Megatron quirked an eyebrow slightly. "Your skin is dark brown, your eyes are a slightly glowing azure, and you have red hair. I do not believe that is typical?"

"In way of natural coloring, no. But humans have been known to change their appearance to suit their personality."

Megatron snorted and shook his head in disdain. "Humans use forms of currency to obtain everything they desire, right?"

"Yes," Optimus replied, surprised and cautious at the topic jump.

"How do they normally go about getting this currency to help achieve comfort?"

"Most humans possess 'jobs'."

"Which are?"

Optimus paused and thought. "I...am not sure. I am familiar with the human military and government, not as much with the civilian population. Bumblebee would know more than I."

"Unfortunately, we do not have that poor excuse of a Cybertronian as a resource. And anyway..." Megatron trailed off, looking quite thoughtful, which made Optimus nervous.

"Spit it out," Optimus demanded.

"Do not order me around."

"_Megatron._"

Megatron snarled.

Optimus reached out and grabbed Megatron by the collar of his shirt and dragged him close, touching their foreheads so their eyes were even. "If we are going to get through this, you will have to share your plans with me, as I will share my conclusions with you. If you do not, we cannot hope to retrieve our former selves."

Megatron's gaze was sullen. It told Optimus that he knew the Autobot was right—but he didn't have to like it.

"We will join the military," he finally said.

Optimus's eyebrows rose slightly. "What?"

"You and I are both very familiar with this country's military. We are also both fighters and leaders by nature. It would also be possible that if we got cozy enough with those in power that we might be able to join that ridiculous team of humans and Autobots that hunt down Decepticons, in which case it is possible that we will be exposed to something that might return us to our normal bodies."

"But will also run the risk of being recognized by our former allies."

"And enemies," Megatron drawled. "Nevertheless, I would like to work my way into that group—precisely because it might lead us to my former peons. Getting rid of Starscream in _this_ form would humiliate him, and since I know where all his weaknesses are..." Megaton's eyes narrowed and glittered evilly, "I will make him suffer."

"You will not be able to do that _too_ quickly. It would bring suspicion on you, and as we cannot _afford_ that..."

Megatron growled darkly and wrenched away from Optimus's grip, standing and walking slowly but steadily away. Optimus watched the former Decepticon pace for a few moments before saying: "We must choose names."

Megatron stopped mid-stride and turned to face Optimus, face darkening. "I _refuse—_"

"If we are to obtain employment, we need names that are _not_ Megatron or Optimus Prime."

Megatron scowled. "My name is my _identity_."

"And you will have to change it in order to achieve your aims. What is your name?"

Megatron's eyes narrowed. "I suppose you will want them to be bland, pedestrian names?"

"No need to drag any more attention to ourselves than necessary."

_Especially because I know that we will do so whether we want to or not—we will not be able to entirely hide our _difference._ It is too much of who we are._

"I...I will be Oliver Pederson," Optimus eventually said.

"O.P. You are pathetic," Megatron drawled.

"Then I assume you will be more creative?"

"_I_ do not have the luxury of two names. My first name will be Michael. As for the last...we shall see."

"Michael?" Optimus replied, slightly incredulous. "You're serious."

The Decepticon gave him a smirk. "Entirely."

"You always were one for irony," Optimus drawled. "'Who resembles God' indeed."

The smirk grew into a grin. "I do my best," he purred.

"You will always be an egotistical megalomaniac no matter what your form, won't you?"

"Thank you for all the compliments, oh dense and ineffective ruler of the Autobots."

There was a tense silence in the camp.

Eventually, Optimus sighed and pushed himself to his feet, much steadier this time. He let go of the walking stick and took a few steps. When he _didn't_ face-plant into the dirt, he gave Megatron a look. "Shall we?"

"If we _must_," Megatron drawled. "Do you even know where we are _or_ how to get anywhere?"

Optimus sighed. "I remember seeing a pathway—a broken-in trail that some might use to hike. It could quite possibly lead us to a road."

"Or get us even more lost." This time it was Megatron who sighed. "If only I could contact Soundwave..."

"You can't, though," Optimus pointed out. "So we must make do."

Megatron growled softly. "I feel deaf and blind. Such a limited scope of wavelengths..."

"But you can feel more acutely and _taste._ The sense of smell is also very different from what we're used to. It's...a trade-off."

"The bodies are tiny, require frequent rest and sustenance..."

Optimus allowed Megatron to rant, since from previous experience he knew that once the Decepticon had it out of his system, he would be more pleasant—as far as that could be said to extend. Megatron was never _really_ pleasant anymore. Not since...

Optimus shook himself out of his thoughts to notice a cramping in his lower torso. It wasn't the same as when he was hungry (although he was becoming so, now that they were up and moving again), it was a different kind of pressure. Equally uncomfortable, though.

It was only when he began to leak that he got a clue.

His body needed to excrete waste.

But...how?

Optimus paused and looked around, suddenly self-conscious.

"What are you doing, Prime?" Megatron asked, having noticed that Optimus was no longer beside him.

"This body needs to rid itself of the digestive track's waste products."

Megatron cocked an eyebrow. "Ah. Right. _That_. Annoying and inconvenient."

"You've already experienced it?"

"In a manner," Megatron evaded. "I will wait here. You figure it out on your own."

Optimus sighed gustily and walked a short ways away, running over what he had seen males of the human race do (especially when Sam had complained about feeling like he was going to explode—they had pulled over onto the side of the road and Sam had...).

Optimus unzipped his pants and let them fall slightly, before pushing down his newfound underwear so that the male reproductive organ (what was it called? Penis, he believed, although there were hundreds of euphemisms) was hanging out. He felt something within him seem to...release...and a small stream of pale yellow liquid (_urine, right?_) flowed out of it and onto the forest floor.

Once Optimus felt that he no longer had the need to pee, he resettled himself in his underwear and pants before turning around and finding Megatron.

He was surprised when he walked back and found him lifting things from the ground, but not, apparently, for any set purpose.

To Optimus's eyes, it appeared that he was exploring the range of motion the human body was capable of, which amused the Autobot. For all his twisted views and desire for world domination, Megatron was still highly inquisitive, and only his abject disdain for biological lifeforms kept him from examining them rather than killing them. But now that he _was_ one, he was afforded the luxury of dealing with biological processes without having to worry about other humans.

"What are you doing?" Optimus asked, breaking Megatron's revere.

Megatron blinked and flushed slightly. "I am testing the limits of human strength and flexibility. I want to know how much work I have before me," he said in a terse, quasi-accusative tone.

Optimus was unable to squelch a knowing smile, which earned him a glare from Megatron. "I see. Shall we move on?"

"Might as well," Megatron growled.

They walked in silence for a while before Megatron began voicing his thoughts and doubts. Optimus felt that the Decepticon tended to do this while alone, but since he had agreed to a temporary truce and working relationship with Optimus, he apparently felt he could do so with the Autobot around. He spoke of practical matters, such as other clothing, food, housing, things they would need to deal with prior to attempting to join the military. They would have to learn human slang, conventions, societal norms, appropriate behavioral patterns.

It promised to be endlessly more difficult to hide as humans among humans than as vehicles among humans.

"What have we gotten ourselves into?" Optimus finally murmured, stroking his chin thoughtfully as they walked.

Megatron shrugged. "No clue. All I know is that when I get my hands on Starscream, he is going to have to redefine what he considers pain to be."

Optimus looked at his companion and sighed inwardly. _It's surprisingly easy to forget just how much of a ruthless ass Megatron can be. Being a human has curbed his ability to follow through on these desires, but...I do not know if he will make a good soldier or not. He has an extreme distaste for authority, but is an exceptional fighter. We shall see..._

The sun steadily rose in the sky, and before long they were both sweating, Megatron swearing about the human cooling system and Optimus quietly agreeing. It _did_ seem horribly inefficient and ineffective. Their hunger eventually became too much to ignore, and both sat down to figure out the next bit of food they uncovered (something called Trail Mix). Once again, the sensation of taste was glorious, and Optimus could tell Megatron enjoyed it as much as he—but was less demonstrative about it. After their break (_lunch? I think_), they continued walking, a surprisingly comfortable silence settling between them.

–

It was four days after they had become humans that they ran into their first group of other humans. It was a surprise, and if Optimus hadn't put a hand on Megatron's shoulder to steady him, he was pretty sure the Decepticon would have attacked out of annoyance.

"Sorry," Optimus said.

It was a group of three—two younger, teenaged females and a male chaperone of some sort.

"We didn't expect to meet anyone on this trail," the male said, obviously fascinated by the dichotomous pair before him. Optimus, frankly, wasn't surprised. He was sure he and Megatron made a rather unusual duo.

"We got lost," Optimus replied.

"We were chased off of our campsite and lost the majority of our supplies," Megatron added smoothly, surprising Optimus.

_What's he playing at?_

"Bears have been known to live in these woods," one of the two females replied, apparently sympathetic. "Sorry to hear about that."

Megatron shrugged delicately, giving her a small, wistful smile. "It is fine. We've been surviving."

Optimus's eyes narrowed slightly. _What is he _doing?

"However, if I may ask, do you have any supplies you might share? My...companion...has been wandering without shoes and we could both use a solid meal—trail mix only extends so far."

Optimus barely kept the surprise from showing on his face. _He's convincing them to share their supplies with us? _

Optimus watched in amazement as Megatron charmed his way into getting them food and some money to buy Optimus new footwear. He also acquired directions to the nearest town. After a decent conversation, the group left them, and Optimus was finally free to express his utter incredulity.

"How did you _do_ that? No, _why_ did you do that?" he asked, surprise lacing his voice.

"You don't think I rose through the ranks just by brute-forcing it, do you?" Megatron drawled, counting the money and readjusting the new pack full of snacks and other materials that would help them survive to civilization.

"That was the general assumption, yes," Optimus said dryly.

Megatron laughed. "Oh, _please_. I am not socially inept. I am quite capable of twisting people to my will without having to punch them in the face. Although _that_ is infinitely more satisfying."

Optimus sighed.

The two started their trek again, this time finding the well-worn path that thousands of feet had formed.

"I think we're doing pretty well, all things considered. We've both at least _adapted_ to these bodies..."

Megtron growled.

"...and we're apparently capable of minimal human interaction. I personally am looking forward to watching _you_ attempt to survive in a city."

Megatron gave him a dark glare.

"Have you figured out a last name yet?" Optimus asked.

"I was thinking of Tron—since human last names seem to be completely nonsensical."

"Isn't that a little close?" Optimus asked.

Megatron shrugged. "Michael Tron. How would the normal human military—who shouldn't really _know_ about Megatron at all—put it together?"

Optimus sighed. "You have a point."

"Of _course_ I do."

The two walked in silence again, and Optimus idly noted that he no longer felt every air current so acutely and was no longer overwhelmed by the scent of the grass crushed beneath their feet—although he was constantly amazed by the variety of tastes he could experience.

In their travels, the two of them had found a wild blueberry bush and had taken a few—quite sweet, but with the oddest undertaste of sour.

Megatron had hated them.

"The length of my hair makes me appear feminine, doesn't it?" Megatron asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

"It is...unusual for a male to have hair your length," Optimus replied diplomatically.

Megatron snorted and from the pack he drew a small red, cylindrical object. He flipped it open to reveal a blade and gathered all his hair in his other hand. He then sheered as much as he could off, replaced the blade, and found what Optimus recognized as a hair-tie and pulled back what remained of his hair in a ponytail. "I will fix it better when I have a reflective surface," Megatron stated and walked away from the pile of bright silver hair.

Optimus looked between the hair and the departing Decepticon and sighed, catching up with him easily.

It was then that Megatron started into a sprint.

Optimus scowled before following after him.

_I hate it when he does this. I _know _that there is a point to it, but it's still frustrating. He's faster than I, but I have more endurance than he._

He always somehow seemed to know where Megatron was headed, where he had passed, and didn't really mind. It made it easier to keep tabs on the Decepticon, just in case he decided to go AWOL and find ways to plague the human race as a human.

_Primus knows they do it easily enough themselves._

It took Megatron a little longer to tire this time, or perhaps he had simply pushed himself harder, for when Optimus finally caught up, the former Decepticon was breathing heavily, sweat dripping from his face, his shirt soaked through.

Optimus was a little winded, but not half as much as the panting human before him.

"Perhaps you should take it easier," Optimus offered.

Megatron shook his head sharply, sweat flicking off him at the motion. "No. I must get this body to be as strong as possible."

_Being the strongest still matters to him, even in a different form. It's not a matter of purely holding power—it's also a matter of pride,_ Optimus thought, mildly amused.

"Wipe that smile off your face," Megatron growled, and Optimus blinked, not even aware he had been smiling.

"Come. I am starting to _stink._ I need to get all this _filth_ off me."

Optimus smiled faintly as Megatron started off along the trail again before walking beside him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author**: And after more than a month, I present you with the second chapter of this fic. Perhaps I should have had more than one chapter written when I first published this story...

**Disclaimer**: If I owned Transformers and all things associated, I wouldn't be having the money troubles I am.

**Chapter 2**

"Remind me _why_ are we doing this, Prime?"

"_Because_," Optimus panted as he climbed over a fallen tree-trunk, "_you_ wanted to get stronger, and _I_ wanted time to figure out our backgrounds."

"Your," Megatron paused as he scrambled to remain upright as he nearly tripped over a root, "desire is a stupid one."

"It's prudent," Optimus replied. "We need to be able to present a convincing front if asked questions."

Megatron snorted. "I suppose," he admitted reluctantly. "No need for us to be discovered before we get into that absurd Autobot/human team." Megatron paused. "The truth also might result in us being committed to a mental institution, which I would like to avoid."

"So. We come up with backgrounds," Optimus said through heavy breaths.

The two new humans stopped to rest, each drenched in sweat, clothes sticking uncomfortably to their bodies.

Megatron stood in the shade of a nearby tree and glowered at his arms, which were becoming bright red. "This is obnoxious."

Optimus couldn't restrain a smirk. "Can't take a little sun, Megatron?"

"Shut it, Prime," Megatron snarled.

"We obviously know each other."

"What?" Megatron asked, apparently briefly confused by the topic jump before connecting what Optimus was referring to. "Of _course_," he eventually drawled. "How else would you explain our thinly-veiled desire to tear each other apart?"

"_How_ will we know each other, though?" Optimus mused.

"Rivals. _Obviously_."

Optimus's mouth twitched in a slight smile. "Obviously. Same town?"

"Lived near each other, at least."

Optimus nodded. "How do we explain our age, though? We're not exactly..._young._"

Megatron shrugged, unconcerned. "Will they ask?"

"Probably not..."

"There you go. Well, then, what are our _reasons_ for enlisting?"

"_Your_ answer is easy—rebellion."

Megatron's lip curled in a slight snarl. "Very funny, Prime." After a beat, a smirk formed on the Decepticon's face. "And _you_ followed me into the military because you couldn't imagine a life without me."

"_WHAT_?! No!"

Megatron laughed, making Optimus frown. The Decepticon's laugh hadn't changed—it was still the same, with a feral, malignant edge to it that said he was laughing _at_ the person unabashedly.

"Optimus, Optimus," Megatron chided with a grin, "you are _far_ too easy to rile."

"Only _you_ have ever managed that."

"I know," Megatron purred, obviously smug.

"Just do not forget—you were defeated by a young _human_ and _I've_ handed your ass to you any number of times."

Which translated into, 'so while you might have the emotional upper-hand, I can still grind you into the dirt if I want to.'

_That_ caused Megatron to scowl.

The two started their hike again, Optimus looking at a map of the area (which they had discovered in the supplies they had been given). They had decided to take the _very_ long way to the nearest point of civilization in order to be fully at ease with their bodies and work out exactly _how_ they would find their place in their new world. It was..._difficult_...to get used to, being in a human body. Both of them still had trouble with balance, and having everything be suddenly so much larger, and..._flatter_, in a manner...was unnerving.

The travel, aside from testing their new human bodies, also tested their patience with each other. It had been eons since they had more than conflict-contact, and each was reminded why it was so easy to be enemies with the other:

They _hated_ each other.

That they were forced to deal with each other on a daily basis and not allowed to tear the other to shreds grated on both of them— running low on food, water, and rest may also have contributed to the mutual ire.

Although the scenery was occasionally quite breathtaking.

'If only I didn't have to deal with this _pain_,' Optimus grumbled inwardly, shooting a covert glare at Megatron, who was resting in the shade of a nearby tree, growling and cursing about the frailty of his body.

"You don't seem to be having the same trouble with the sun I am," Megatron grumbled, glaring at the pigmentation of Optimus's skin.

"I think you might be an albino," Optimus replied.

Megatron blinked. "A what?"

"An albino. You don't have the same kind of pigmentation all other humans do, which makes you susceptible to ailments like sunburn—which is what the painful phenomena of your skin becoming bright red is called."

Megatron gave his body a look of extreme distaste.

"Look, that doesn't matter. We have to keep moving."

Megatron huffed and ran a hand through his hair, a habit that Optimus found amusing. It seemed there were a few human habits Megatron picked up instinctively. The Decepticon grumbled a few more uncomplimentary things but started walking anyway, Optimus falling quickly into step beside him.

"How do they _survive_ in these?" Megatron grumbled as he idly picked at his peeling skin.

"They are a resourceful race," Optimus stated as he set his feet carefully. They were walking along particularly treacherous terrain, and Optimus had no desire to plummet to his death over the nearby ridge.

Megatron, of course, seemed to disregard his own safety in favor of progress—something about him that hadn't changed over the eons. He blazed a trail forward, never bothering to chart a course of least resistance—whatever got him to his goal fastest was obviously the best way.

'Such impulsiveness and pride was what always got him in trouble.'

It was no less true as a human.

Optimus watched Megatron teeter as he stepped down awkwardly on a rock. There was a moment of breathless anticipation before Megatron began falling over the side of the ridge they were walking along.

Optimus reacted without thinking, lunging forward and grabbing Megatron's hand, his own arm screaming in pain as Megatron's weight pulled at it. He scrambled for a brace, and just barely kept himself from falling over with Megatron.

For a moment, their eyes locked.

'You could let go and no-one would hold it against you,' came the thought, unbidden, into Optimus's mind. 'Look at him—he almost expects you to.'

Optimus inwardly shook himself. 'No. That's a very Decepticon thing to do, and while I am many things, I am most _definitely_ not a Decepticon.' He found a better foothold and clasped his other, free hand on Megatron's arm and pulled him up until Megatron found hand- and footholds, the Decepticon pulling himself up the rest of the way. They were both panting slightly as they regarded the other.

Megatron gave him a wry smirk. "I would have let you fall."

"And that is why _you_ are a Decepticon and _I_ am an Autobot."

Megatron snorted and shook his head. "Your heroics will doom you one day," he told Optimus, brushing off the dirt that had accumulated on his shirt and pants.

Optimus sighed softly before staring ahead. "Walk where I do—you won't fall that way."

"You _dare_ to—"

"Do you want to die before you get your revenge on Starscream?"

_That_ quieted the Decepticon, although it did nothing to subdue the glare he was receiving.

The heat and exertion eventually got to them around midday, making them take a brief rest under a scraggly tree.

"So, which branch shall we join?" Megatron asked.

"Pardon?"

"There are multiple sections to this country's military—I have found out _that_ much. A sea-faring one, a flying squadron, a land-based one."

"The Navy, Air Force, and Army," Optimus supplied. "There are also the Coast Guards, who are sea-faring, in a manner, and the Marines."

"What do the Marines do?"

"I'm not sure. Specialists? I have had minimal interaction with them—they are not often recruited to NEST."

"Why not?"

Optimus shrugged. "I assume it is bureaucratic."

Megatron snorted. "Whatever. Which does NEST draw from most heavily?"

"I believe it's officially a branch of the Army."

"Then we enlist in the Army."

"If we _can._ I'm not sure of the process—which is one of the many things we have to investigate when we get to a city."

Megatron growled. "I do not _want_ to learn how to be these creatures...but it appears I have little choice in the matter if I want to rend Starscream into scrap metal."

Optimus suppressed a smile. "Don't sound so put-out. As humans would say, 'know thine enemy'."

"Are you suggesting that learning how to be a human will teach me how to defeat them and claim dominance?"

"Whatever will make you cooperative."

Megatron snarled.

Optimus sighed. "We must work on your temper."

Megatron gave the Autobot a dark glare which Optimus shrugged off.

They began walking together again, Optimus taking the lead, Megatron following closely behind. A headache was slowly growing behind Optimus's eyes, a soft, low buzz permeating his mind along with the pain.

"Megatron, will you _stop_ grumbling," Optimus said perhaps a little more sharply than he intended.

"I am saying _nothing_, Prime," Megatron replied equally sharply. Optimus stopped and turned, his eyes catching Megatron's, sapphire staring into ruby.

"Then stop _thinking_ so loudly—it's giving me a headache."

"How would _you_ be able to hear _my_ thoughts?"

"It's a human expression for when a person is so obviously involved in their own thoughts that an observer can almost _hear_ them think."

Megatron snorted and shook his head. "You have spent too much time around the base creatures." There was a pause before Megatron scowled. "I am _tired_ of being hungry and exhausted. This is _stupid_!"

"And was in part your idea..and primarily _your fault_."

Megatron growled in warning.

Optimus turned on his heel and continued to make his way cautiously forward, finding good hand- and foot-holds so that neither of them courted gravity again.

It was strange, how he didn't feel too concerned about having Megatron at his back. The Decepticon was self-serving and manipulative enough to recognize when he needed someone to help bring his plans to fruition, and killing Optimus would render his chances at revenge exceedingly slim.

"You have spent time with these beasts."

"I have," Optimus replied, curious as to where _this_ particular line of inquiry was going.

"What exactly is...routine behavior for them? Habits that the entire plague shares?"

Optimus sighed. "Well...they _try_ to keep clean. They have specific areas for excreting waste—bathrooms. They _shower_ daily. Well, mostly. When available..."

As they walked, Optimus slowly described everything he remembered about life at the NEST base as well as what he had gleaned from Bumblebee's descriptions of Sam's life. Sleeping, clothing, eating, cleanliness, living arrangements, jobs, families, schedules, legality of actions ("That means that you aren't allowed to maim someone just because they annoy you." "Pity."), government, recreation...

"They're also very..._gender_ oriented," Optimus said, catching his breath as they looked out over a beautiful landscape.

"Oh?" Megatron asked from his station underneath a very shady tree.

"You and I were both assigned the _male_ human gender...and there are certain behavioral expectations as well as social prejudices and norms that are specific to males—_men_. You will be glad to know that in most human societies the male carries more power than the female."

Megatron's eyebrows rose slightly and a smirk formed on his face. "So it will be easier for me to accrue power and influence?"

"Unfortunately."

Megatron chuckled darkly. "Mm-hm," he murmured, scratching at a bug bite on his arm. "So, tell me, Prime—what do you know of the history of this virus, not to mention current events?"

"Why so curious?"

"Prime, if I want to survive, we can't go into this completely uninformed."

"I think you just like learning something new, something beyond your former realm of experience."

Megatron snarled. "Do not presume to understand me. I am not the Cybertronian that you remember, and you should do well to realize that—after all, would the former me have stabbed you in the back?"

Optimus felt a chill go through him as he realized that Megatron was _behind_ him and had that pocket knife...but something told him that he didn't have to worry about Megatron killing him.

Yet.

Still...he had a point.

"I...do not know as much as I feel I should, but I can tell you what I _do_ know, and we can look up the rest of it in a library."

"A place where they keep their learning, correct?"

"In a number of forms—books, magazines, and electronic media."

Megatron made a noncommittal sound. "So, just how old _are_ these creatures?"

"Not very..."

Optimus gave a general description of what he remembered, but focused primarily on the time since they discovered electricity and developed indoor plumbing ("Since that was the point after which the human population exploded and extended people's lifespan to the point where they could come up with the technology they have now." "Filthy creatures." "_Megatron..._").

Silence fell once Optimus finished speaking, Megatron obviously thinking quite hard, turning over all the new information he had gained in his mind. For a long time, the only sounds as they walked were the calls of birds, the buzz of cicadas, and their own harsh breathing.

Optimus found little comfort in the beauty of his surroundings, however.

'I can't _believe_ that I'm traveling with my former enemy and long-time rival. What is even _harder_ to comprehend is that I'm _human_!' The whole absurdity of the situation was finally setting in and Optimus found himself suppressing a slightly-panicked chuckle. Optimus Prime _didn't_ panic—but, then again, _was_ he really Optimus Prime anymore? Optimus Prime was a _Cybertronian_ _Autobot_. Not a man of apparently African heritage.

'We will have to make pasts for ourselves—not just stories, but medical records, social security numbers, birth certificates, home addresses, e-mail addresses, phone numbers...Primus, how are we going to _do_ this?'

"What is that sound?" Megatron asked, interrupting Optimus's musings.

"What?" he asked and tilted his head slightly, listening. It took a moment before he finally placed the sound: "That's running water," he stated, "which means we can wash off our accumulated grime _if_ it's clean."

"_If_ it's clean?"

"Not all water is. But...I believe this area's lakes and rivers are made of glacial melt, so while the water will be _cold_, it will most likely be clean."

"You hope."

"Well, yes."

"By the way, _how_ cold are we talking?" Megatron asked casually, but Optimus could detect a tinge of tension.

"Not cold enough to incapacitate you," Optimus replied. He knew why Megatron asked, and from the angry glare he was getting from the Decepticon, he could tell that Megatron didn't appreciate the understanding.

"Let's get there, then. I dislike this _stench_ radiating off me."

Optimus continued to lead the way, and within a half-hour they found the source of the running water—a small river. Optimus walked over to it and wished he had his sensors to tell him whether or not the water was clean.

Apparently, it mattered little to his companion, for once Megatron determined he could see all the way to the bottom and had chased away all the fish and other wildlife, he stripped and stepped in.

Before yelping and retreating. "That isn't a _little_ cold, that is _very_ cold!" Megatron growled and glared at Optimus.

Optimus merely shrugged. "How was I to know?"

Megatron grumbled some uncomplimentary things about the Autobot before slowly walking into the stream, shivering as he used the water to wash the accumulated grime off of him, making the water that flowed away from him slightly brown.

Optimus found himself strangely reluctant to strip and join the Decepticon, but from how Megatron's skin was becoming a brighter shade of red—meaning that anything that had been clinging to it had been washed off—he felt he should wash as well. He stripped and put his clothes next to Megatron's before entering the water himself, the chill sending painful shivers up his legs and into the rest of his body.

"_Primus_," Optimus swore softly and began to rinse the dirt from his skin. "You were right when you said it was cold."

"I make no claim to be your supposed creator, but I'm glad you acknowledge that I was right," Megatron said rather smugly.

"Quiet," Optimus growled and flicked water at Megatron, who scowled and splashed back at Optimus.

Optimus sputtered as the water hit him in the face and glared at the Decepticon, who gave him a rather toothy grin.

Optimus reached out and shoved Megatron, making him teeter unsteadily and land in the water, creating a large splash. Megatron surfaced, he growling, eyes narrowed as he looked through a curtain of silver hair.

The Decepticon recovered quickly and lunged at Optimus, pushing him down into the water. Optimus held his breath and pushed Megatron off him, who was still glaring at him from his spot in the water, but it was slightly less fierce than it had been. The interaction deteriorated into a splashing and dunking war, until both of them were too exhausted to continue trying to best the other.

"Do you _always_ have to have the last word?" Optimus grumbled, glowering at the Decepticon as he tried to shake water out of his ear.

"You tell me, Prime," Megatron drawled and walked to the bank, taking a handful of hair and wringing the water out of it, growling uncomplimentary things about it. "Since I cut it it has regrown to its original length!" he lamented before walking out of the water and picking up his clothes. He looked at them in mild disgust before going back to the water and attempting to scrub the grime off of them.

If anything, the water became even dirtier as a result of that. Optimus frowned and picked up his own clothes and began to wash them—he hated mimicking Megatron, but the Decepticon _did_ have the occasional good idea.

Once the clothes were as clean as they could make them, the two of them set them out to dry in a shaft of sunlight, only wearing undergarments as they waited. There was a short silence that was broken by Megatron saying: "Prime."

"What?"

"You _do_ realize the absurdity of this entire situation, don't you?"

"It _has_ dawned on me, yes," Optimus replied dryly.

Megatron gave him a fleeting smirk before his face fell into a more contemplative expression. "How long do you think it will take to get what we need?"

Optimus sighed and rubbed his short hair, looking at the running water before them. "I don't know," he answered quietly.

Megatron snorted and shook his head. "Thought so."

_But I wonder if, when we finally achieve our aims, we will still be Megatron and Optimus Prime...?_

"Good question," Optimus murmured.

"What?" Megatron asked sharply, looking over at Optimus.

Optimus raised an eyebrow, "You had a good question—whether or not, when we finally achieve what we need to in order to return to our selves, if we will still be who we are."

Megatron frowned. "I never said that."

Optimus gave him an incredulous look. "Yes, you did—I heard it."

Megatron's face closed off for a moment before a look of disgusted astonishment flashed across it. "There is no way you could have heard that question—" _Not unless you can hear my thoughts...?_

There was a beat of utter, shocked silence before revulsion slowly crept through Optimus's being. _Impossible._

_Apparently not._

_You _do_ know what this means...?_

_To my utter horror, yes._

Optimus's shoulders slumped as his head found its way into his hands. _How is it even _possible?

_I don't know, but it's just another reason to tear Starscream apart when I finally corner him._

Optimus couldn't agree more—it was one thing, being human. _That_ was something he could deal with. But being connected to _Megatron—_of all creatures!—on an intimate level...well, that was less easily forgiven.

Sure, mental connections were not uncommon—Decepticons and Autobots both had their own frequencies that they communicated over—but it was more akin to human walkie-talkies than true telepathy. Each Cybertronian had their own personal frequency that fell in the spectrum of their respective chosen side with which they could communicate over, either en masse or individually. It required focus, but it was doable. Something such as what Megatron and he shared—something close to _true_ telepathy—was an entirely different matter. It was a byproduct of literally sharing a part of one's Self with another. Because each contained an integral part of the other, they shared a connection far deeper than any radio frequency.

What they had forced upon them was uncommon for any _romantically_ involved individuals, exclusive or not, to share something so fundamental, for, if one of the pair died or was separated and out of touch from the other, the surviving one was likely to go insane or die themselves. There were other, less invasive ways of declaring your relationship to another, and most opted for what was generally called spark-binding. What he and Megatron shared was different from a spark-binding in a few important ways, although the general phenomena was the same.

The main difference being that a spark-bound couple was able to survive the death of one of the members, as the part that was shared by the couple could be returned to the giver upon death of the recipient. What _they_ had somehow acquired...well, Optimus was _literally_ half-Megatron. If _Megatron_ died, half of Optimus went with him, which was an incredibly disturbing and distressing thought. To keep _himself_ alive, he now needed to make sure that _Megatron_ also stayed among the living.

So now, no matter what they had wanted, they were bound to each other, body, mind, and soul...and absolutely _hated_ each other.

Optimus heavily shielded his thoughts, now aware of what exactly that soft buzzing had been—their connection. As long as he blocked it and guarded against it, his thoughts would remain his, just as the opposite would be true for Megatron. Nonetheless, the situation was in general distasteful, and it didn't take reading Megatron's thoughts to tell that the Decepticon was equally revolted by it.

'As if the situation wasn't bad enough already...'

–

Optimus was barely able to suppress a snicker at the completely mystified look on Megatron's face as he was fussed over by the group they had come across in their travels. The two of them had been weak from exhaustion and lack of food and water, and had propped up against a tree, half-conscious in an attempt to conserve energy and resources. Both had been woken by a cry of surprise. There was a brief argument that neither of them entirely processed, but when Optimus found himself being resuscitated with water, he would have done anything in thanks. Instead, he had found both he and the Decepticon being mothered by a group of females that had run across them.

Megatron's exotic looks and obviously painful sunburn had earned him a good deal of sympathy, and while he was overwhelmed by positive female attention, his reflexive charisma—even when out of it—had earned them a seat at a campsite, food, and new shirts, even if other articles of clothing could not be spared (Optimus was also relieved to have acquired sandals—while his feet had toughened as a result of walking mostly barefoot, it helped ease the cuts and blisters). Megatron also found himself being slathered alternatively in something called aloe vera, which one of the females insisted would help with the sunburn, and sunscreen, which might prevent said sunburn from getting any worse.

"How in the world did you end up like this?" one of the females ('Sarah?') asked.

Optimus shrugged sheepishly. "Well...you wouldn't believe me."

"No, go on. Tell me," the woman insisted as Optimus drank some more _wonderful_ water.

_Dehydration is such an issue._

Optimus must not have shielded his thoughts as well as he would have liked, for Megatron replied to his statement: _Tell me about it—could you get these _creatures_ off of me?!_

_No._

"Well...have there been any news reports of strange activity?"

"There _was_ a story of a wildfire...oh, did you get caught in that?"

"Yeah," Optimus replied with a weary smile. _I suppose that accounts for the damage from our weaponry._

_Possibly. Optimus, _stop them!

_Stop them yourself._

_You think I haven't been _trying?

"We lost everything in the fire—supplies, clothes, you know, the things you need to survive," Optimus continued fluidly, the internal conversation having taken mere seconds.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"We've had someone else help us, though, which is what accounts for our clothes and that backpack. But...charity only extends so far."

"How'd you guys _meet_? You're so..._different._"

"Kim! Don't ask questions like that."

Megatron rolled his eyes. "It's a valid question. We've just...always known each other."

"So, you guys're friends?"

Megatron was about to respond in the negative, but Optimus cut in, saying, "In a manner of speaking. We were actually with our families, who _are_ friends, but..."

"We survived and they didn't," Megatron chipped in with a flat tone.

_Why'd you say _that_?_

_Pity,_ Megatron said smugly. _They'll be even more willing to help us now. It's the strangest reaction..._

Optimus was astonished to find that Megatron had been right, and that the group fussed all the more after that proclamation.

By the time the sun went down, the Cybertronians had been given places at their campsite, which both gratefully took—it meant that they didn't have to worry so much about wild animals or their counterpart doing something to them as they slept.

Optimus settled against a tree, a light blanket covering his legs, and he sighed heavily as his body began to relax. He and Megatron had been lucky so far, finding two groups of people who were willing to help them. Optimus figured that they looked pathetic and earnest enough that people didn't see them as robbers or some such nonsense.

Even though, in a sense, they were, since they _had_ technically stolen from that first campsite...

_How do you know what you do about humans?_ Optimus asked his forced traveling partner now that he had time, Megatron's random bouts of insight confusing him.

_Prime, what else do you think I had to do during all those years?_

_What?_

_After the ancestor of that _brat_ partially woke me, I was dragged into a human laboratory—I wasn't entirely conscious, but enough that I could get bored. Whenever I was awake enough to be that way, I would observe what was going on around me, listen to the stories the workers told, began to listen to the radio once the overgrown bacteria got that down. Wireless internet was the most fascinating thing, however._

_You kept yourself entertained, hm? _

_It was sporadic, but you tell me what _you_ would do if you were in a forced semi-stasis for far too long._

_Why did you ask me so much about humanity, then?_

_I told you—I was only _partly_ aware. I picked up bits and pieces, not the comprehensive knowledge that I need to be able to survive as one of the fleshlings._

Optimus made a soft noncommittal sound. _I suppose that makes sense...for a Decepticon._

Megatron obviously rolled his softly-glowing garnet eyes. There was a surprisingly easy silence as they both watched the stars through the heavy canopy of leaves.

'I must admit, I never expected something like this to happen when I first came searching for the All-Spark,' Optimus thought to himself, exasperated. 'Although I have to wonder what exactly Starscream used to transform us in this manner. It was certainly not a human weapon, and I haven't heard of a Cybertronian weapon that would create such an effect. _How_ do Decepticons manage to _find_ such damaging things?'

Optimus's eyes slowly drifted close, his mind slowing down, breathing evening, he descending gradually into sleep.

–

Optimus rubbed his temples, azure eyes glowing faintly as he nursed a wounded body, warily watching Megatron do the same.

There were very few things in the universe that made Optimus angry. Unfortunately for his sanity, he was stuck with one of them.

That he made Megatron equally unhappy was little balm for his spark. Soul. Whatever he currently had that contained who he was.

After a eleven days in the company of the Decepticon, Optimus's temper was frayed to the breaking point. Neither he nor Megatron dared to speak to each other anymore, for any conversation inevitably turned into a verbal spar that left them both seething and itching to pound the other's face in. Thankfully, things hadn't _yet _come to blows, but it was almost inevitable that it would eventually.

Of course, it was over something _incredibly_ inane, but why shouldn't that have been the case?

Optimus stubbed his toe on a rock.

Megatron laughed at him.

Suddenly, Optimus found himself pinning the surprised Decepticon to the ground, his own fist raised back to punch.

This time, unlike during their brief splash war in the river, his aim wasn't off—he caught Megatron square in the face.

Megatron's head snapped to the side, following the force of Optimus's blow, a little bit of spittle and blood exiting Megatron's lips. Optimus raised his other hand to punch, but Megatron just barely intercepted the blow in time. Megatron used his free hand to catch Optimus in the gut, making Optimus grunt in pain and double over, forehead nearly touching Megatron's.

Optimus felt himself shoved off of his perch on Megatron's torso, Megatron scrambling to a standing position in time to kick Optimus in the side, making Optimus grimace. The next kick Optimus rolled away from, he getting onto his knees in time to block another kick with his forearms and shove Megatron off-balance long enough to get his own feet under him.

The two of them circled each other carefully, watching their opponent warily. Both of them _knew_ how the other fought, but being _human_ had changed things.

Optimus was distantly surprised at how fast Megatron moved, but was also surprised at how easily he himself absorbed the hits Megatron landed on him. He could tell from how Megatron winced that his reposes hurt significantly more.

The odd thing was that _he_ also felt every hit _he_ landed on _Megatron_, although significantly weaker. He wondered if Megatron was finding the same thing to be true, and, if so, if this was another side-effect of their unfortunate connection.

Megatron ducked under a punch from Optimus and caught the Autobot leader under the chin with an uppercut, making Optimus stagger. Megatron followed up the attack with a kick that sent Optimus into a nearby tree. The Autobot shook off the dazed feeling in time to avoid another attack from Megatron, which left the Decepticon open to a counterattack.

Optimus grabbed the long locks of Megatron's hair and pulled on it, causing the Decepticon to fall back towards him with a cry of surprise and pain. Optimus used the surprise and the leverage to dig his knee into Megatron's back, causing the man to arch up. Optimus moved his leg and then slammed the palm of his hand into Megatron's sternum, sending him to the forest floor, breathless and down for the count.

Dazed, angry ruby eyes stared up into equally irate sapphire ones. For a long moment, the two simply looked at each other before Optimus's legs gave out from under him and he found himself sitting not too far from Megatron, his entire body aching from the combined hurts of what Megatron had landed on him and echoes of the opposite.

"You feel it, don't you?" Megatron whispered hoarsely once he got his voice back.

"What?"

"_My_ pains. You feel them."

Optimus nodded mutely.

Megatron swore.

Which lead to their current position, each lost in his own thoughts as they separately pondered the ramifications of the intensity of their bond.

"_How_?" Megatron whispered aloud.

"The better question is _why_," Optimus replied wryly.

Megatron snorted and winced at the movement. "_That_ is easier—the universe has something against me. First I'm stuck on this _rock_, frozen for centuries until discovered by that brat's ancestor. _Then_ I'm brought into a lab and forced to remain in semi-stasis while human scientists poke and prod at me, trying to divine my inner workings. _Then_ I am killed and dropped into the deepest part of this planet's oceans. I'm resurrected through your faulty security and I _finally_ manage to rid the universe of you and then that selfsame brat manages to find a way to undo all my hard work! _Now_ I am here, stuck in this forsaken organic _coffin_ while being bound to you." Megatron paused. "No. I'm not _bound_ to you. Spark-binding is different, is not this intense. What is this...?"

Optimus shrugged helplessly. "The only one-word description is in Cybertronian and I cannot pronounce it using the human vocal system..."

Megatron growled and shook his head, muttering uncomplimentary things about humans, Autobots, and Optimus, which Optimus ignored. "You know what this is, though," Megatron said, almost accusingly, as if it was Optimus's fault that they ended up like they were.

Optimus's eyes narrowed. "I know _of_ it. I have only heard of a few cases of it. Most do not choose to become..._bound_ really is the best word in the English language...in this manner."

"What does it _mean_, Prime? Stop stalling."

Optimus growled a warning, which inexplicably made Megatron smirk.

'Decepticons are _so_ strange,' Optimus grumbled inwardly. "You will like it even less than I," he said aloud.

Megatron cocked an eyebrow.

Optimus sighed. "Very well. We will _always_ be conscious of the other—I will know where you are, what you are feeling, who you are with, what you are doing, and, if you do not shield correctly, what you are thinking. There is _no_ option of being involved with someone else—faithfulness to me is assured, as the opposite is true. I am _literally_ a part of you, physically and psychically. When you are hurt, I am hurt, and vice versa. We are capable of communicating with the strange telepathy we have acquired regardless of the distance—we could be on opposite sides of the world and still be in touch, as fast as thought." Optimus sighed. "Also, since we are so closely linked, it is..._inadvisable_...to be out of contact—physical and/or mental—for overlong. You run the risk of insanity if you do that. And if one of us dies..."

"The other will either die as well or go mad," Megatron finished flatly.

Optimus nodded glumly.

It was _truly_ hateful, being so closely linked with his enemy. It would have been unwise to have what they were dealing with to someone on their _own_ side—to do so to an opponent was _unthinkable._ Now Optimus found himself in that exact situation, he sharing half of his Self with his long-standing rival and antagonist.

"There is no way to break this," Megatron stated more than asked.

"Not without one or both of us dying."

Megatron scowled up the sky, arms crossing over his chest. "_Why_ is my luck so _poor_?"

"I wish I knew," Optimus replied wryly, which transfered Megatron's glare from the heavens to him.

There was a long silence before Megatron sat up gingerly, rubbing his neck in pain. "I will find a way around this. I refuse to be linked with you in this manner."

"If you find a way, I look forward to ridding myself of you, too," Optimus replied, standing slowly.

Megatron heaved himself to his feet, his arms windmilling for a moment before he found his balance.

"Come," the Decepticon growled. "The sooner I can release myself from this _ridiculous_ predicament the better."

Optimus watched Megatron stalk off and followed him at a more leisurely pace.

–

It took them about two weeks to get to the small outpost of a town near where Sam and his family had decided to go camping, the two having resigned themselves to being stuck with the other after their confrontation.

"At least there will be a place to rest that isn't the ground," Megatron groused as they walked down the street.

"With all the money we don't have," Optimus drawled, although he silently agreed. His back was one mass of pain from sleeping on the ground with no protection, and he was looking forward to experiencing a bed.

Megatron hissed his displeasure while glaring at Optimus.

"There are other things we have to worry about, first," Optimus told his companion.

"Oh?" Megatron asked, incredulous.

"Clothing, specifically. _Then_ we can find a place to rest."

"Why does _that_ matter more?"

"Because we look terrible and no place will give us lodging or food if we appear this way."

"That's incredibly superficial."

Optimus shrugged. "A failing of the race, but nothing major."

The two walked in silence, Optimus idly noting that they _were_ getting pretty bad stares.

_See why I think we need new clothes? People won't look twice at us, then._

Megatron merely made a noise of acknowledgement.

Optimus eventually found what he was looking for and nudged Megatron towards the shop.

_This will have what we need,_ Optimus told the Decepticon.

_What is this place?_ Megatron asked, obviously curious in spite of himself once they had entered.

_A consignment shop. We should be able to get clothes on our..._limited_...resources here._

Megatron gave Optimus an utterly incredulous look. _If you say so. How do we know what will fit us?_

_Trial and error?_ Optimus replied and went over to a rack that was clearly marked 'men'.

Trial and error it ended up being, as they wrestled with sizes and numbers until they found what would fit them, earning more than a few odd looks as they struggled. Optimus wasn't quite sure how people explained their behavior away, but from how no-one actually _said_ anything, Optimus didn't bother to think on it too much.

As it was, he was _fascinated_ by the different textures of clothing. Some were soft, others were rough, and a great many had textures he was incapable of describing because, well, he might _know_ the human words, but because he didn't know what they represented, that was all they were to him—words. The lengths and cuts and colors, and how they were combined and interacted, were all equally fascinating

Eventually, Megatron decided on a few lightweight, long-sleeve tops ("I refuse to walk around with this shell visibly flaking off of me.") and equally light-weight, long pants, most in solid colors—although black looked the most striking on him, for obvious reasons. He also bought a baseball cap to keep the sun off of his face, and to perhaps hide his striking garnet-colored eyes.

Optimus found himself leaning more towards patterns and designs on the shirts that he picked out, and was partial to jeans of varying lengths and weights.

Underwear and socks were also acquired when they stopped by a CVS, as well as a few other items necessary for their well-being and acceptance into society. However, the greatest amount of time was spent in the food aisle.

_What _is_ all this?_ Megatron asked, slightly astonished. _Can they eat _all_ of this?_

_It's not a _good_ idea, but theoretically, they can eat most of this stuff._

_Fascinating..._Megatron murmured and picked out a package labeled 'popcorn'.

In the end, Optimus had to drag Megatron out of the snack food aisle. _All that stuff isn't good for you._

_But it's _cheap_ and looks...interesting_, Megatron protested.

_We can find cheap, interesting, _healthy_ stuff elsewhere._

Megatron scowled as he waited for Optimus to pay for everything that they had decided to buy. They exited the store and both sighed in unison before giving the other a glare.

"Where now, Prime?" Megatron drawled, obviously annoyed.

"Don't call me that aloud," Optimus growled quietly.

Megatron rolled his eyes.

"For now, I think we need to find temporary lodging so we can clean up and change into the new clothes we bought."

"_Cheap_ temporary lodging, correct? So, a motel or something?"

Optimus nodded, again filing away the random bouts of information Megatron seemed to have for later pondering.

The two of them meandered until they found a rather sketchy-looking affair that was cheap and asked no questions, which was a small relief. The room was small, cramped, and dark, but after sleeping on the ground, the beds felt like heaven. They both collapsed on the separate beds and were out like lights.

Optimus woke a few hours later and stretched, every ache in his back screaming for his attention, making him wince. He heard the tiny shower in the dirty bathroom running and smirked faintly. Megatron had obviously woken before him and was washing himself using the cleaning supplies they had bought.

Optimus looked up at the ceiling, his hands laced together over his chest.

It was funny, thinking that he had been _human_ for two weeks. He was personally surprised that he had survived this long at all—if the situation had been posed to him when he was still Cybertronian, he would have bet that he wouldn't have lasted a week, let alone this long with _Megatron._

Perhaps it was _because_ of Megatron that he was still alive. Afterall, neither of them wanted to appear weak in front of the other, and dying before the other had a chance to kill them would have been disgraceful _and_ distasteful. So they both pushed themselves to the limit of their newfound bodies, figuring out all the nuts and bolts that humans tended to grow up with. It was a small blessing that they had both, to an extent, lived _with_ them, and so weren't starting entirely from scratch.

'Nonetheless, there is _so much_ to learn. We know the basics, but very little else.'

At that moment, Megatron walked out of the bathroom, toweling his hair dry, fully clothed. "You can make it _warm,_" Megatron murmured and picked up a small device that was resting next to their obviously run-down television before he plopped down on his bed.

Optimus figured that was as much recognition of his wakefulness he would get, and pushed himself to his feet, picking out an outfit for himself before entering the bathroom. The set-up was nothing particularly elegant, but Optimus wasn't about to be picky. There was a sink, a toilet, and a shower/bathtub combination. The slightly-cracked mirror was still misted over from when Megatron had taken his shower and the shower-head was dripping sporadically. Optimus regarded everything before him before sighing and stripping himself of the torn, dirty, abused garments that had been his covering for the past fortnight.

He gingerly stepped into the basin of the bath and discovered what Megatron's comment meant when he fiddled with the knobs set into the wall, which, when turned, caused water to come out of the shower-head above him. He jumped in surprise when the water first fell on him from above, but as his body slowly relaxed under the unsteady torrent of water, he came to appreciate hot water.

He stood for a long moment before picking up what they had eventually decided was used to clean the patch of overgrown fur on their skulls and looking at it. He turned it over and read the directions on the back, and made a mental note not to get it in his eyes or mouth. With the hand that was holding the bottle, he turned it over and squeezed a small dollop into the palm of the other, before carefully setting down the bottle. He looked at the viscous liquid resting in his palm before bringing it carefully up to his head and using _that_ hand as well as the other to rub it into his scalp. He was surprised when he felt the texture change into something more...more...there was no Cybertronian word for the sensation, for they did not feel in the way humans did—much as they could not taste as humans did. Sure, they could see and hear and sense things no human ever could, but there was something to be said about _feeling_ shampoo turn to suds as it interacted with friction and hot water.

He let the water rinse the shampoo from his short, wiry, oddly-colored hair, watching as it traced patterns down his body. Since that first day of adapting, he hadn't really taken the time to observe his own physicality, and now that he had a moment where he didn't feel that he had to watch his back constantly, he did. As far as he could tell, he was of muscular build, and from how close he was to the shower-head, it meant that he was probably taller than average. He knew already that his coloration was far from normal—typical african-heritage coloration was all shades of brown—but he had hoped his height wouldn't be another distinguishing trait. He already stood out as it was. Megatron was perhaps even worse, with his silver and red coloring. He was fairly sure that they made quite the sight, as out of place with each other as in society.

He picked up the poof—he _believed_ that was what it was called—with one hand and used the other to pick up the body wash they had bought. It was a little harder to manipulate, but Optimus was proud when he didn't drop anything. He rubbed the liquid into the poof and found himself smiling as it sudded up. He heated slightly in embarrassment, even though no-one was around to see. He would have to learn to take such things for granted, but for now...

His sense of balance was unfamiliar with what he was doing, especially when he went to wash his lower legs while standing. He had to brace one hand on the wall to get himself entirely clean, grumbling quietly about how he _still_ hadn't figured out balance entirely.

As he cleaned his genitalia a spike of...of..._something_ raced through him, making him jerk in surprise. It wasn't a _bad_ feeling, but, again, clearly different from anything he had ever felt while a Cybertronian.

'It hadn't felt like that when simply—oh, what's the word?—peeing. But, at those times, the contact was never _extended_...'

Optimus had the gut feeling that he was treading into dangerous, entirely unknown waters, and it was unnerving. He hadn't gotten where he was by being careful, though, so he felt it was something to be explored, if cautiously. _This_ was yet another example of how different human and Cybertronian bodies could be, even though they appeared superficially similar.

Optimus thought for a long moment, fingers ghosting down the length of his penis, sending small shivers of...what _was_ the word for this sensation?..._something_ through his body. As he had listened to the male soldiers, he remembered a lot of crude talk had revolved around their genitalia, whether from jokes or otherwise was unimportant.

He also knew a great deal about the biology and function of the male reproductive system, but it was all academic. It had no application to him, so while he had filed it away as information, he hadn't bothered to give it a second thought.

Now he wished he still had the limitless data retention of his former body, if just so he could _review_ what he had discovered, remember the conversations.

'Again, driving blind,' he thought morosely.

He shivered involuntarily when a particularly strong flush of the sensation curled through him, and he reinforced the barriers between he and Megatron, not wanting the Decepticon to ask questions he didn't feel like answering.

He became aware of a change in the particular part of his newfound anatomy that he was exploring that accompanied the lazy swirls of sensation. It was lengthening and darkening...

Optimus blinked and then pulled his hand away quickly, embarrassment burning through him. It had taken a little while, but little pieces of information had congealed in his mind, telling him what was happening. He shifted awkwardly on his feet before reaching out and turning the hot water off.

He bit back a yelp as the water turned bitingly cold, and he was all too glad when his erection faded. He turned the water off entirely and stood in the shower for a moment, watching the water drain around his feet.

"_Primus_," he muttered as he stepped out of the shower, annoyed with himself.

He picked up a towel and briskly dried himself before figuring out boxers, applying deodorant (he and Megatron both had an intense dislike of the smell they emanated when unclean), and shoving himself into his new clothes.

Megatron was obviously engrossed in the television when Optimus finally made his way out of the bathroom, as he adjusted the belt around his waist.

"What are you watching?" he asked.

Megatron jumped at Optimus's voice and hissed in displeasure. "Don't startle me like that!"

"Then pay more attention to your surroundings," Optimus said archly, making the Decepticon scowl. "Again, what are you watching?"

"Why does it matter?"

"_Megatron_."

The Decepticon remained stubbornly silent, which made Optimus sigh. "Fine. Come. We should go to the library to get the information we need."

Megatron grunted in agreement and stood, stretching, a soft groan escaping his lips. "I hope to never spend another day sleeping on the ground like that."

"I'm afraid you might have to, given what I have seen of the armed forces."

Megatron growled in displeasure as they walked out of the room, locking the door behind them as Optimus slipped the key to the room in his pocket, since he had paid for more than one night. They headed off into the town proper after Optimus was sure their room was secure.

It wasn't a particularly large town, so they found the public library fairly quickly.

_Do you know how to read their languages, Megatron?_

_What kind of question is _that_?_ Came the annoyed reply. _Of course I can. How would I have been able to peruse their internet otherwise?_

_Point,_ Optimus admitted as they entered the building.

The library was cool and quiet and had the most interesting smell to it. Optimus was amused to observe that Megatron had unconsciously slowed down his walking pace, and had seemed to try and quiet himself.

_I will explore the internet. It will be a ...unique...experience to browse it from this position._

_Very well. I will go through the printed material._

_You do that,_ Megatron told him dryly as he peeled away to examine the computers.

Optimus shook his head, went to the periodicals rack, and took out the latest issue of a number of national news publications. Might as well get caught up on current events before going through scientific texts—not that he suspected there would be many manuals on 'how to be human'. A lot of it would be conjecture and trial-and-error on his and Megatron's parts. It was sure to be a frustrating learning experience, and even though they both learned very quickly, going from being a Cybertronian to a human wasn't going to be an easy task.

Optimus had the bad feeling that it would take _years_ to grasp the full complexities of the society, but they would have to have the _basics_ down before applying to be in the armed forces.

'But what would be the best way to figure out these things?' he wondered as he idly flipped through Time magazine. 'There are so many levels to society, so many different sets of expectations ranging from class to age to gender.'

Optimus sighed softly and wished desperately that he had a users manual for the situation he found himself in. Instead, all he had was his intellect, observational skills, and luck.

'Perhaps movies that are set in present time? And popular fiction novels? Even television programs? Then there's always observing how others interact.'

Optimus felt a headache building behind his eyes and closed the magazine, running his fingers along the glossy cover.

'Might as well see what Megatron is up to.'

Optimus stood and searched until he found Megatron perched at a computer terminal.

_Megatron, what are you doing?_ he asked, making Megatron look at him out of the corner of his eye and shrug.

_I have discovered a site on the internet called 'Wikipedia'. It's...fascinating._

_What're you reading about?_

There was a surly pause before Megatron spoke: _If you _must_ know, I started out researching the United States Army and have now ended up reading about something called Star Wars._

Optimus did a poor job of smothering a grin. _Sam has spoken about Wikipedia before. I wouldn't trust it entirely._

Megatron quirked an eyebrow. _I only trust what I have personally experienced. Everything else is more likely than not a lie._

_A very Decepticon thing to say._

_A very _true_ thing to say._

Optimus sighed and put a hand on the back of Megatron's chair. _Have you put any thought into how we are to get _accepted_ into the armed forces? If we can't act convincingly human—and we don't know half as much as we should in order to do so—they won't take us. Probably will believe that we're insane._

_And that would hinder our plans. Very well, Prime—what do you suggest we do about our lack of humanity?_ Megatron's tone was dry and made Optimus give him a mild glare.

_We watch what they do. We can also use popular culture as references. Not very _reliable_ ones, but they will give us some idea of how people behave in certain situations._

_Oh? What kind of references?_

_Movies. Television. Books. And, of course, the internet. But, I think we'll be better equipped to deal with all that if we're in a larger city._

Megatron scowled at the computer screen. _I do not like that idea._

_It doesn't matter—we're going to have to do it whether you want to or not._

Megatron's lip curled in a silent snarl. _I am going to kill you in your sleep one day for daring to order me around._

Optimus couldn't help the small smirk that formed on his face. _You will try._

Megatron bristled.

_But that is neither here nor there. You want your revenge, I want to return to my companions. To do that, we need to work in tandem. You have seen me copy your actions—I only ask that you do the same, occasionally._

Megatron's eyes narrowed, but he seemed to calm slightly. _So. What large city are we near and how will we get there?_

Optimus hesitated and thought. _I believe we are closest to New York city._

_And just how to you plan on getting to said city? _

Optimus paused. _I suppose a combination of hitch-hiking and public transportation._

_Why don't we just take a car?_

_Do you really want a criminal record?_

_Oh, _right_. Doing that would be breaking one of their stupid _laws_._

_Just because you have no respect for rules..._

_Even if we take one from a junkyard that no-one wants?_

_Yes, Megatron, we'd still be stealing._

Megatron almost _pouted_, which made Optimus suppress a snicker.

_Come. I have paid for today and tomorrow at the motel. We can use the time to watch the cable they provide and do some reading. Then we will head off to New York City._

Megatron sighed. _Very well, Prime. We will follow this plan of yours—for now._

_For now,_ Optimus agreed. If there was anything he knew, it was that plans had a bad tendency to change at the last moment.

_You find your books. I intend on finding appropriate television programming._

Optimus nodded and left Megatron clicking idly at Wikipedia, obviously _not_ looking up TV shows. Optimus shook his head and headed into the fiction section, picking out books at random.

By the time they were kicked out of the library, Optimus had read through a dozen or so books. He had been astonished by the variety in writing skill and subject matter, and felt that a larger library might have even _more_ to offer him. The books he had read had offered him more than just a look into the collective human psyche, some had also been _fascinating._

'The creativity of humans is astounding,' he thought to himself with good humor.

_You are smiling, Prime. What has you so pleased?_

Optimus jerked slightly at Megatron's voice and he looked to his side to see the Decepticon regarding him with an unreadable expression on his face.

_I've found out why some of the soldiers 'kill time' by reading novels. They're..._very_ entertaining. Human capability for creativity is to be commended._

_Mm-hm,_ Megatron murmured, the smallest of wry smirks forming on his face. _As a species they are..._Megatron paused, as if trying to find the right word,..._contradictory,_ he finally settled on.

Optimus gave him a curious look.

_I spent my time on the internet. While I most certainly don't trust all that Wikipedia contains, following the related links to other pages lead me to some..._strange_...topics. _

_Oh?_

Megatron shook his head. _It is...complicated. I have read about human popular culture, of their history, current events, scientific advances, medical procedures and diagnoses, laws, diseases, industries legal and not..._Megatron fell briefly silent. _They are twisted for such a young race._

_They have made mistakes, but they are not beyond hope._

_Optimus, _please._ They are not noble by any stretch of the concept. They have enslaved each other for no reason other than the color of their skin is different, killed each other in mass numbers in such a brutal manner that it's almost _shameful_, are ruthless to enemies and allies alike...Optimus, they are _beasts.

_It is nothing we ourselves haven't done,_ Optimus pointed out sadly.

Megatron glowered at the sidewalk as they made their way slowly towards the motel. _They _exploit_ each other. Some use addictive natural—and some not so natural—substances to make another human completely dependent upon them. Without something they call a 'drug', it is entirely possible that an 'addict' may _die._ There are entire _industries_ around sexual exploitation, organ harvesting, illegal activities...they do things to each other that no Cybertronain would ever _consider.

Megatron paused and a smirk flitted across his face. _But, as you say, they are capable of great creativity and kindness—although by no means nobility. Some of their most renowned leaders were great peace-makers, although it has only been recently that peace has become a common goal among the creatures. They can be very, very shallow._

Silence fell as they walked before Optimus's stomach growling in hunger broke it. Megatron gave the Autobot a toothy grin. _Food?_

_Food._

Finally_ something other than granola bars and trail mix_

Optimus couldn't help but silently agree. He was looking forward to trying other kinds of food.

They changed destinations and stopped in what Optimus recognized as a food store. It was only through sheer willpower that neither of them stared wide-mouthed at the _selection_.

_It's possible to _eat_ all this?_

_Theoretically,_ Optimus replied distractedly, taking in all the edible things of varying shapes, sizes, colors, and prices. Oh, sure, he might know all of what he was looking at intellectually, but...

He caught Megatron's hand before he could squish what Optimus recognized as a tomato by squeezing too hard, earning a glower from the Decepticon, who yanked his hand away.

_Stop touching me!_

_Then stop making it necessary for me to do so!_

That was only the beginning of the silent argument that flew between them as they bickered over what to buy as they walked down the aisles.

In the end, they exited with a sandwich each and one bottle of iced tea and one soda, a surly silence between them.

They walked onto the street and began a leisurely trip back to the motel—it wasn't as if they had a set deadline. It gave them time to observe the architecture, the people, the businesses—everything that made the small town what it was.

_Our coloration really sets us apart, doesn't it?_ Megatron mused over their connection. _We are acceptable otherwise—clothed, clean, etc. This means that how we appear color-wise is truly that remarkable,_ Megatron commented when he caught a passer-by staring.

_It is,_ Optimus affirmed. _Which will undoubtedly make life difficult._

_They are not very tolerant of difference,_ Megatron drawled.

Optimus snorted as they turned into the motel parking lot, headed to their room. The Autobot fiddled with the key, letting them back into the room they had temporarily secured for themselves.

Megatron retrieved the soda and one of the sandwiches, and set about figuring out how to unwrap the food item, sharp-nailed fingers making quick work of the plastic surrounding it. Optimus took a little longer to figure out how to open it, and the wave of surprise that flooded him from Megatron over their connection made him wince.

"What?" he asked perhaps a little too sharply, looking over at the Decepticon. What he saw made whatever temper he had fade entirely.

Megatron was looking at the sandwich in something close to pure astonishment. Optimus had never seen such an unguarded look on the Decepticon's face and it both baffled and amused him.

"This is..." Megatron started, but appeared lost for words.

Curious, Optimus finished opening his own sandwich and took a tentative bite.

He found out why Megatron was caught off-guard. The trail mix and granola bars had been good enough—filling for stomachs unused to food—but _this_ was completely different. The _textures_ were different, from the vegetables, to the cheese, meat, and bread. Then each of _those_ components had their own flavors...it was almost a sensory overload for Optimus.

'But I must learn to not behave in this manner,' he thought sadly. 'I hate knowing I have to become jaded to this experience.'

He chewed carefully, and was almost _sad_ to swallow, but at least there was more of the sandwich to look forward to. There was also the iced tea to consider as well—all he or Megatron had drunk before was water. Optimus set aside the sandwich gently and twisted off the cap of the plastic container ('bottle'). He took a tentative sip and was unable to restrain a surprised sound. He had thought the round, colorful bits they sometimes found in trail mix were sweet, but _this_ was even more so. It was slightly tart, but incredibly sweet—almost _too_ sweet.

He heard Megatron coughing and looked over to find the Decepticon giving the bottle of soda ('Mountain Dew') a wary look.

"What's wrong?" Optimus asked.

"It's..." Megatron sighed in frustration. "Here. Try it," he said and held out the bottle to Optimus, who took it suspiciously. "I have not had time or resources to poison it," Megatron said dryly when Optimus looked it over, considering the object. Optimus smiled faintly before taking a sip of the soda.

He found himself sputtering slightly as well and gave the bottle of fluid a purely incredulous look. "It says it's 'carbonated'. Does _that_ account for the...the...effervescence? Bubbles?"

"It's _very_ strange," Megatron commented and took the product back from Optimus. "But not objectionable," he finished in a murmur as he took a small sip.

Optimus shook his head and turned his attention to his own food.

Megatron finished before he and picked up what Optimus now recognized as a remote control and turned on the television.

Soon, the only sound in the room as the two watched the television with rapt attention was what came from the electronic appliance.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author**: Hi guys. So...current plan is update on the 3rd of every month, if possible. We'll see how well _that_ pans out. Thank you all for reading/reviewing/favoriting/alerting! Your patronage means the world to me.

**Dislcaimer**: If I owned them, i wouldn't have the money troubles I do.

---

_This was a horrible plan,_ Megatron growled at Optimus, who merely sighed and readjusted the backpack on his shoulder.

_Perhaps,_ he admitted.

_Told you we should've just taken a car._

Stolen_ a car, Megatron. And no, that wouldn't have been the prudent thing to do._

_So instead we're stuck walking down back-roads, getting dirty and damp and altogether uncomfortable?_

_How was _I_ to know that the weather would work against us?_

_You're a Prime,_ Megatron answered with a kind of malicious smugness.

Optimus gave him a glare that only made the Decepticon grin.

_What do _you_ suggest we do now, then?_ Optimus posed. _If we stay still, we catch hypothermia. We don't know when the weather will let up, but we _do_ know that if we keep on walking along this road that will we get to civilization where we can pick up some sort of public transportation._

Megatron shrugged. _Forward progress is necessary to achieve any goal. This was a bad plan, but a necessary one._

_Then why are you complaining?_

_To make your life difficult, of course, _Megatron replied cheerfully.

_Of course,_ Optimus repeated dryly.

When they had first started off, the sky had been clear and blue, the sun shining down on them—causing Megatron to bitch about the heat. Then it had become overcast and dreary, with only occasional periods of drizzle that slowly seeped into them over an almost interminable period of time. _Now_ Megatron was bitching about being wet and cold. It seemed as if the Decepticon would find something to complain about no matter what—which was a _pain_, but Optimus knew it was only just to get on his nerves, and if he let it show Megatron would gloat, making matters all the worse.

'I would love nothing more than to rid myself of him, but I don't know what effect that would have on me,' Optimus thought sullenly.

Both of them jumped when they a loud beep came from behind them, and both whirled to face the sound, each tense and surprised.

A Hummer came up beside them, the obnoxiously neon green color tempered only by the copious amounts of mud on it. The passenger-side window rolled down, revealing a young man who looked far too curious for Optimus and Megatron's good.

"What'cha doing walkin' out'n the rain?" he asked with an accent Optimus couldn't place.

"Our car broke down," Megatron lied. "And we don't have road-side assistance, so..."

"Ah, I see," the man said. He seemed to think for a moment before nodding. "Get in the back. Ya might hafta work 'round some campin' stuff, but I think you'll be okay."

Megatron and Optimus looked at each other quickly, Megatron's eyebrows raising slightly. "You're not going to try and kill us, are you?" he asked the driver, typically paranoid.

The young man blinked, then laughed. "I should be askin' _you_ guys that," he said. "Get in."

Optimus and Megatron shared one last glance before Optimus walked over to the back-door and opened it, his eyebrows snapping up when he saw the mess peeking over the backseat from the trunk. Who was he to complain, though? It would get them out of the rain.

He stepped in, ducking his head so as to not hit it against the roof of the car. He was astonished when the young man was the only one in the car, Megatron joining them and closing the door firmly. The young man then floored it, startling both of the Cybertronians.

"Where're you two headed?"

"New York city," Optimus replied as he regained his bearings.

The man sighed happily. "Love that place. Too bad I had t' move out—not cut out for the _urban_ jungle; much rather'd go with the real one. I'll drop y'guys off at a Metro North station—that'll bring you into Grand Central. From there, well, you can get almost anywhere."

"Do you have any suggestions as to where we should go? We're...tourists."

The man snorted. "Best if y' don't look like 'em. I'll send you to all the touristy-places, though, as well as tell you where y'can find some of the more outta-the-way worthwhile stuff. Name's Chris Moser—I used to live in the City before I discovered my love of the great outdoors," he introduced himself. "So, what're your names?"

"Orion Pedersen."

_Orion? You changed it._

_Figured that it'd be best to keep as few things changed as possible. _

_That's even more dangerous than my last name being Tron...I wonder how that'll go over._

"Michael Tron," Megatron said as their internal conversation was taking place.

Chris abruptly burst out laughing, slapping the steering wheel lightly.

"What's so funny?" Megatron asked sourly.

"Just that Tron is the name of a _bad_ eighties sci-fi movie. You've _gotta_ have heard of it."

"It's not _my_ fault my name is what it is," Megatron lied smoothly, grumbling his answer.

"I know, I know. Still..." Chris chuckled for a moment longer before asking: "So, where're you guys from?"

_This_ would be the first test to see if their cover-story worked.

"Mission City," Optimus replied.

Chris made a surprised sound. "That place where there was that huge alien battle?"

"You believe in aliens?" Megatron asked, sounding close to disparaging. _That_ was another part of their plan—take any alien stories with skepticism, as most humans did.

"Hey, they're out there," Chris replied defensively. "What else'd you call that whole broadcast and destroyin' the pyramids thing? That was _totally_ aliens—there's just too much evidence for it _not_ to be."

Megatron gave Optimus an amused look. _How _are_ you dealing with that?_

_We're trying to find the best way to break it to the public that, no, most of us aren't out to get them, and yes, we exist. It's...difficult._

_I'd bet._ "Still. If I didn't see it with my own eyes, I don't believe it."

"And anyway, there _are_ some skilled hackers out there—surely one of them could have done that?"

Chris rolled his eyes. "Buncha skeptics in the backseat. You'll see—I _know_ I'm right on this one."

"Sure," Megatron drawled.

"I could kick y'guys out, y'know."

Megatron snorted and shook his head.

Optimus sighed. "You said you _were_ from New York City—where are you living now and what do you do?"

Chris seemed more than happy to launch into his autobiography:

Born and raised in 'The City', came from a family of four, including himself. His mother was a lawyer and his father was an astronomer ("Of one kind or another—I never really bothered asking."). He had one younger brother ("A real pain in the _ass—_at least he turned out alright, last I heard."). His parents were separated ("But not divorced. My mom and dad have to live apart for a year before any action can be taken."). He was the gym teacher at the local public school and also the co-ordinator of the Outdoors Club.

Megatron had looked incredibly skeptical at that. "What the _hell_ is an Outdoors club?"

"Oh, we do all kinds of stuff. Hiking in the fall and spring, skiing in the winter—if we have enough funds, that is..."

Both Cybertronians listened with bemused interest as he rattled off all the activities he and his club participated in, while he occasionally disparaged the 'theatre club'.

_What's _that_?_

_Possibly something to do with performances humans occasionally put on...?_

_Why would he dislike it? It seems to have nothing to do with his own 'club'...why am I even asking? He's _human,_ and by his very nature, makes no sense._

Optimus sighed inwardly.

The young man was more than happy to fill the silence as Megatron and Optimus listened, observing his speech patterns and gestures, the little tics that made him fluidly and completely human—things they hadn't quite gotten down simply because they hadn't had many people to base their own behavior on.

They pulled into what appeared to be a train station, and Chris stopped the car, turning around in his seat to give the two of them a smile. "Here's where we part ways. Have fun in the city!"

Megatron stepped out as Optimus said, "Thank you for the ride—we appreciate it."

Chris shrugged. "Hey, I've had t' deal with the same situation—figured I'd help out."

Optimus smiled and nodded before he, too, stepped out of the car, closing the door firmly behind him. He stepped out of the way and Chris zoomed off, barely missing colliding with opposing traffic as he made a left-handed turn out into the road.

_What _was_ that? His speech patterning was weird,_ Megatron asked as Optimus figured out the ticket-dispensing machine.

_Humans who live in different areas of the world—even the same _country—_can have ways of speaking that are specific to their region. Humans call them 'accents'. I'm supposing he had a New York accent of _some_ sort..._

Optimus pressed all the correct buttons and retrieved two one-way tickets, one for him, one for Megatron, using up almost all their remaining money. He handed the Decepticon his ticket before moving to stand on the platform to wait for the train. Megatron reluctantly stood by him, looking down the train tracks, apparently ignoring the other humans as easily as they were ignoring the two of them. Optimus knew otherwise, but wasn't going to call the Decepticon on it, so started his own observations.

At the time of day that they were seeking transportation, not many others were waiting. Still, there were a few other people, who were indeed pointedly ignoring them even as they all huddled beneath the awning to keep the rain away. Apparently conversation was discouraged when waiting for the train. Of course, it also might have had something to do with them being damp and dirt covered, but...

Optimus walked over to the train schedule, and, after deciphering it, figured out that the next train headed in the direction they wanted would be in 5 minutes or so—luck was with them occasionally.

_All we need to do is take this train to its terminal point._

Megatron made a noise signifying he had heard, but the Decepticon was far away in his own thoughts, and Optimus, for one, felt no need to jerk him out of them—_anything_ to keep the frustrating creature quiet. However, the quiet also gave Optimus time to brood.

He felt a little bad about not contacting his team, but who would believe him? It wasn't as if having the phone numbers of the _human_ commanding officers was any better—they'd try to track him down and kill him for _knowing_ the numbers or just dismiss him as a lucky hacker after tracking him and making sure he couldn't spread his knowledge around. His team and the humans who they fought alongside were an open-minded group, but it would be pushing _their_ beliefs to insist that he was Optimus Prime.

Afterall, what defined him now as Optimus Prime but his memories? His _body_ certainly wasn't Optimus Prime's.

Hell, even his _soul_ wasn't Optimus Prime's anymore—it was partly _Megatron's_ as well.

How was he Optimus Prime anymore, except in memory—and in only _two_ beings throughout the entire universe's memory at that? It was demeaning and frustrating that only his worst enemy could affirm that he was who he thought he was.

Was it possible that one day he would no longer consider himself to be a Cybertronian trapped in a human shell, but genuinely _human_? Would his now-organic, limited mind slowly blur the edges of his formerly crystal-clear memories in favor of focusing on the more recent events of his life? Would Optimus Prime slowly fade to be replaced by this _new_ Self, this Orion Pedersen?

The possibility made him distinctly nervous. 'Stop being foolish, Prime,' he reprimanded himself. 'You have been Optimus Prime for _eons_. Surely you cannot rid yourself of all that time, all those experiences. If all goes well, you might end up back as yourself in as little as two years.'

Somehow he couldn't bring himself to believe it. His life was far too complicated for things to be that simple.

His thoughts turned from his own predicament to the Decepticon who was standing—sulking, really—at his side. In all likelihood, Megatron found their current situation even more distasteful than he did. Megatron, however, was not prone to random bouts of philosophical ponderings, so Optimus couldn't guess what was going on in the Decepticon's head. He didn't _want_ to know anyway_._

'Probably thinking about how he's going to kill Starscream. Or perhaps how he would go about destroying these humans if he was his normal self. Who knows what goes on in the mind of a raving megalomaniac?'

Optimus sighed softly, unhappily, earning an unreadable look from the Decepticon-turned-human standing next to him. Both of them jumped slightly at the sound of a horn, signifying an approaching train, and watched as contraptions that held long poles slowly brought said poles horizontal, providing a blockade around the train tracks, keeping any cars at a safe distance away. The train passed them with a burst of displaced air before it slowed to a stop, brakes whooshing softly as the wheels ground steel against steel. One door slid open and a human stepped out, the other humans present making their way over to the open door.

_C'mon,_ Optimus said and nudged Megatron, who gave him a glower. The two climbed up the stairs revealed and turned into the passenger car, looking around briefly. There were only a few people on board. The two former-Cybertronians found a three-person seat and sat as far away from each other as possible, Megatron leaning against the window, looking out it with his face cupped in his palm, while Optimus sat against the aisle, playing idly with his ticket.

It was weird, traveling _in_ a machine that wasn't sentient. Optimus felt almost _dirty_, riding inside the car of the train. It made no _logical_ sense, but with how his life was tending, who was he to bother with logic any longer?

'Relax, Optimus. Most Decepticons don't bother with something like human transportation—for the most part...' Optimus sighed softly. Optimus heard Megatron strangle a noise of surprise when the train jerked and began moving forward—Optimus sympathized, for once, since he had been equally startled. The pace of the motion increased, and a surprising cold ball of discomfort formed in his stomach. He had never been in anything mechanical that he was incapable of controlling himself, and he found the experience incredibly unnerving.

From how Megatron was sitting and the slight frown on his features, Optimus hazarded a guess that Megatron was equally unhappy—if not more so. Optimus knew from past experience that the one thing Megatron desired more than anything else was _control_...and now that he was in a position that lacked it, it was driving him crazy.

Well, crazier than he already was. And that was saying something.

Optimus sighed softly again and sat back in his seat, settling in for a long train ride.

–

New York city was quite large—larger than Optimus had expected. He had known _intellectually_ that it was a city that contained _millions_ of people, but it was an entirely different matter to discover that fact for himself. Buildings that he would have been on eye-level with now towered over him, making him feel very, very small. People rushed about, most occupied in their own little world of MP3 players, cell phones, Blackberries, and other electronic devices that made it easy to shut out the overwhelming drone of the world. It was a frantic, dizzying pace and it left both Megatron and Optimus standing in the main concourse of Grand Central Terminal mutely, completely overwhelmed.

_I understand better why the Fallen called the human race a 'hive',_ Megatron said wryly to Optimus. _Busy little creatures, aren't they?_

_With their lifespan, perhaps it is necessary, _Optimus commented. _Come. We have much to see and learn._

Megatron made no reply, merely looking around with blatant curiosity as they walked.

_Hey, look—someone actually your color,_ Megatron said with some amusement, gesturing to a well-groomed businessman who was talking heatedly on his phone.

My_ coloration is not uncommon,_ Optimus replied dryly. _Yours is._

Megatron snorted and shook his head. _Shall we just meander the streets? It's not as if we have anyplace we _need_ to be._

_Sounds as good a plan as any,_ Optimus reluctantly admitted.

They moved awkwardly within the confines of the building, the pressure of so many people moving at odds with each other frustrating and unnerving.

_So, how are we going to get around? Just walking?_

_Until we have money, that's really our only option. _

_Once we _do_ have money...?_

_Well, there _is_ public transportation..._

Megatron raised an eyebrow before snickering as Optimus mistook a pull-open door for a push-open one.

_Having a hard time reading, Prime?_

_Quiet, you. Even _natural_ humans make that mistake._

_Mm-hm..._

Optimus would have decked the infuriating Decepticon just to get the smirk off his face, but was prevented from doing so by the plethora of people surrounding them. So he settled for stomping on Megatron's foot, causing the Decepticon to swear creatively in a number of languages as he half-staggered away from Optimus, leaning against the wall of the station building to let him take weight off of his now-injured foot.

That the action also kept Megatron from retaliating right away and probably causing a stir was an added benefit. Sure, his own foot hurt a little, but it was of little consequence. The glare he was receiving should have killed him, but Optimus was getting very good at brushing off Megatron's death-looks.

_As I was _saying_, we have the option of public transportation once we get money. This means that we'd be able to take buses and...subways. You _do_ know what those are, don't you?_

_Of _course_ I know, what kind of stupid question is that?_

Optimus smirked slightly and inclined his head. _Good. Taxis are also a possibility, but a very reluctant one. They cost much more than other forms._

Megatron tested his foot and his shoulders relaxed once he realized he could put all of his weight on it. _Then I suppose the first order of business here is to find employment. We need clothes, housing, and food. For that we need money. So, we find jobs._

_It won't be that easy._

_Why not?_

_Without the right documentation..._

_Then we take jobs under the table. We get things that'll give us cash in hand when we're done with them, no questions asked._

_Where the _hell_ do you pick these things _up_?_

Megatron simply gave him his most arrogant, smug smirk, which made Optimus feel the urge to stomp on the Decepticon's _other_ foot. Unfortunately, the target was too far away, so he settled with plotting for later.

'I am spending far too much time around him_,' _he thought mournfully, 'if I am _plotting_ now.' _It doesn't matter,_ Optimus said over their connection. _Jobs._

_Shall we buy a newspaper and look through the job advertisements or just gamble?_

Optimus blinked and sighed. 'Stop being surprised when he says something. It's good for his ego and bad for your sanity.' _Newspaper._

The two of them fell into step with the other, although staying close was something they needed to work at—people seemed intent on getting where they were going, regardless of who they had to move to get to their goal.

Very few people ever looked up, Optimus noted. They were all very focused on what was going on within a 3-foot radius circle surrounding them, everything else out there be damned. This was often accomplished by being absorbed in something on their cell phone or iPod or simply staring determinedly at the sidewalk, a light, pensive frown on their features. There _were_ a few who managed to keep their head up while looking into the distance, still effectively ignoring everyone while seeming to pay attention. It was...fascinating and bewildering.

Chris had been right—it was _ridiculously_ easy to figure out who were the locals and who were the tourists; he was also pretty sure that they got lumped in with said tourists, most likely because they were looking at everything with unabashed curiosity.

Everything around them was one large flurry of motion and noise, lights flashing, people speaking in dozens of languages, some familiar and some not, cars passing alternately at a crawl and breakneck speed...the city _pulsed_ with activity. Optimus had never witnessed such utter chaos that was only barely restrained by generally accepted boundaries and laws. It was...disconcerting. Sure, he had seen scenes like this when he was in his alt form or when fighting a Decepticon in an urban area, but it was an _entirely_ different matter to find oneself on ground-level with everything.

_What is she _wearing? Optimus heard Megatron ask, an odd combination of a sneer and puzzlement in his mind-voice.

Optimus looked over and blanched. _I think you mean, what _isn't_ she wearing._

_Oh, so that isn't normal? I wouldn't have guessed from that female that hangs around you all..._

_Mikaela? She is...it doesn't matter, _Optimus finished with a sigh.

_You know, no-one is looking twice at us. Their eyes either don't rest on us at all, or dismiss us immediately as not worth their attention—even though we look _very_ strange,_ Megatron observed, amused, as they began a slow saunter down the sidewalk.

_New York is a...it really is what people think of when they say that America is a 'melting pot of cultures'._

_Or just a home for freaks. Why does that girl have so many holes in her? How has she _not_ died from infection? _Megatron asked as he observed a young woman riddled with piercings.

_The same way that man hasn't keeled over from lead poisoning, I suppose,_ Optimus replied as he subtly indicated a heavily tattooed man walking nearby.

Megatron's lips twitched slightly in a most likely smothered smile.

_You can tell that there're more 'normal' people than oddballs, however,_ Optimus commented as they passed a family of four.

_I suppose. Do the size differences indicate something?_

Optimus blinked and frowned. _What do you me..._he trailed off as he remembered that the only humans Megatron had probably ever encountered were adults. _Well...humans are organic beings, and therefore have a...different way of reproducing._

Megatron arched an eyebrow, but Optimus ignored the unspoken question. _When they have children, they start off quite small..._Optimus looked around, seeing if he could locate a baby—without any luck. _As they grow—_

_They _grow? Megatron asked, incredulous. _So you're saying that the smaller ones are like...like...sparklings?_

Optimus nodded. _Something like that. They have a few major stages in their development; they go from being a baby, to a toddler, then a kid, then a tween, then an teenager, then an adult...although that's all relative. In truth they are sexually immature until their hormones go into overdrive and change them into physical adults. Whether or not they are _mentally_ adults is something else. Over time their body...decays, I suppose—it becomes less robust, since the cells are copies of copies._

Megatron shook his head slowly. _Needlessly complicated._

Optimus shrugged.

_Do the different appearances signify anything? There are far too many for there to be any clear delineation of allegiance._

Optimus sighed. _Humans...their society is slightly more complicated than at first glance._

_Uh-huh. It appears this will take longer than I had thought._

There was a pause in the conversation as they wandered idly.

_I'm guessing the ones with gray hair are _not_ like me, considering they have many lines on their faces and bodies and appear rather fragile?_

_Those are human elders._

_Ah. So their appearance changes drastically depending on what age they are?_

_To an extent. People can color their hair and use medical procedures to try and preserve their youth for as long as possible. They...people don't like the prospect of decaying and dying._

_Can't imagine why,_ Megatron drawled. _So, the only time they have two distinct things is male and female? And by that very difference, some have more power than others? Even if the female is more capable and qualified?_

_Unfortunately, _Optimus affirmed.

Megatron smirked before growing thoughtful. _We should find someplace to stay. _

_We don't have any more money. _

_I've seen people loitering about places, sleeping under newspapers and whatnot. We can do that until we have money. It's not like we haven't slept in similar conditions before._

_Technically vagrancy is a crime._

Megatron rolled his eyes. Seriously_, Prime? Bend the rules every now and then. We will need to in order to survive. Afterall, _we don't exist._ How do you propose to fix that without lying elaborately and thoroughly?_

Optimus had no answer, and so merely sighed. _We have _many_ things we need to address. Where do we _start?

Megatron shrugged casually. _Money. We make money first—everything else falls in place after that._

Optimus nodded somberly. _True. Let's head to the library._

_Why would we go to the libr...oh. Internet access._

_Online job listings are easier than searching through newspapers and postings._

_We need a phone, though—to call the places. _

_And an e-mail account._

_Oh, I got _that_ one covered._

_Do I even _want_ to know what it is?_

Megatron grinned toothily.

_Primus, Megatron, I hate you._

Megatron simply chuckled, smirking. _The feeling is mutual. But, come. Where can we get a cell phone? Or at least pocket change so we can use those pay-phones I see every now and then._

Optimus shrugged slightly. _Hopefully we'll be able to use just the e-mail—that would make life easier._

Megatron snorted and nodded slightly. _So, Prime, where exactly _is_ this library?_

There was a long, awkward pause that had Megatron sigh. _So, get a map first?_

_Map first._

It was beginning to look more and more as if this process was going to be very, very long and very, very tedious.

As they walked, Optimus jumped in surprise and grunted slightly in pain when Megatron elbowed him to get his attention.

_Optimus, what's that?_

Optimus looked towards where Megatron indicated. It took him a moment to process what he was seeing. _Oh. I think...I _think_ that is a _painting_._

_A what?_

_It's a...a...piece of art. Something humans make for beauty or meaning. It's a...creative activity. Something that engages the human imagination._

Megatron gave him a look that clearly communicated that he thought Optimus was speaking nonsense.

_Art_, the Decepticon repeated slowly. He then abruptly broke off from Optimus and dodged traffic haphazardly as he crossed the street before coming to a stop in front of the shop window that housed the object of Megatron's curiosity. Optimus looked across the street and sighed, a strange tug at his core telling him he shouldn't let Megatron stray too far away from him while their Bind was still in its infant stages. That which they had was a precarious thing, and if anything happened to sever or strain the connection...well, losing part of their souls promised to be a painful and most likely fatal experience. Either Megatron didn't _care_ or didn't _know_, both of which frustrated the Autobot leader.

'How can he treat himself so _carelessly_?' he fumed while taking the more legal route across the street. An alarming thought hit him as he walked over: 'Maybe death is preferable to living as partly-me. Maybe he doesn't care because he's more than willing to die taking me down with him. That his autonomy takes precedence even over revenge.'

The thought made Optimus distinctly nervous.

Did he like their situation? Primus, no. But was he willing to commit suicide in order to free himself of Megatron? Again, a very emphatic _no_. He liked _living_, even though his current state of existence was hateful. He shook his head sadly and came up next to Megatron, standing next to him and looking at the piece of art. He couldn't discern what had Megatron so enraptured, but found the situation amusing. Even though the Decepticon had professed time and again a hatred for _everything_ human, he seemed to be taking to some aspects of human culture.

Optimus grew bored and whapped Megatron upside the head, making the Decepticon snarl and glare at Optimus, one hand going to where Optimus had hit him.

"What was _that_ for, Optimus?"

"Orion, please," Optimus replied calmly, cooly. "Why are you so taken in by this?" he asked, jerking a thumb towards the piece of art.

Megatron shifted on his feet and scowled at Optimus. "It is nothing. C'mon. We have better things to be doing," he growled and turned quickly on his heel, stalking off, the buzz of his internal mutterings creating a strange kind of white-noise in Optimus's skull. He tried to shake it out, but another _external_ sound quite effectively drew his attention from it.

Optimus had encountered music before, of course—Bumblebee insisted on using the radio to express himself to his charge. _He_, however, had never really cultivated an appreciation for it, since the program he had to run to make sense of the cacophony of frequencies was complex and exhausting. It was hard enough deciphering and combining the sounds that organic beings made—what counted as their version of speech. He occasionally marveled at how their brains had developed such advanced programming to make listening to music or each other effortless and unconscious.

So he was astonished and nearly came to a halt when he passed someone on the sidewalk playing a cello, and found that the sound was...

_Beautiful_.

Only Megatron's brisk pace kept him from stopping altogether and simply listening in rapture to the musician.

Now that he was actually paying attention to the sounds in the background, he realized that he was constantly assailed by music as he passed by restaurants, cafes, almost _any_ kind of store had some kind of music associated with it. The city itself began to take on a pattern, a music of its own—the clatter and rumble of the subways speeding along beneath his feet, the honk and whir of cars on the street, people talking, walking, skating, bicycle riding...it was a _rhythm_ all its own. It took a moment for him to become aware that Megatron was trying to catch his attention.

_What?_ He asked absently.

_Where _were_ you?_ Megatron asked, obviously annoyed.

Optimus simply shrugged. He had no obligation to explain to the Decepticon what had pulled him in.

Megatron's expression gradually became dark as he realized Optimus wasn't about to say anything. _Be that way,_ he growled in a surly manner.

_Hold up,_ Optimus said, slightly distracted, and grabbed Megatron's elbow, making the Decepticon give him a silent snarl and wrench his arm away.

"What?" he asked aloud.

"How far did we walk from Grand Central?"

Megatron frowned. "Not that far. Why?"

"They probably have maps and informational touristy stuff there. We should head back and gather what we can."

Megatron groaned and shook his head. "We make progress only to have to backtrack. This is _annoying._"

"Tell me about it," Optimus grumbled under his breath. "Come. Let's not waste any more time, then, shall we?"

The two reluctantly turned around and began their way back to the transportation hub, Megatron silently seething. The emotion turned into something...else...over time, and that made Optimus nervous.

_What?_ He asked warily.

_You know, you get an awful lot of looks from the law enforcement officials. Why?_

Optimus sighed. _There is still a lot of racism present in this country, even though it is better than some places. Caucasian police officers tend to watch people of apparently-african descent more closely, since they don't think those of my..._color_...can be trusted._

Megatron chuckled darkly. _And among the two of us, the reverse is true. _I'm_ the one they should be watching, since I'm the more dangerous one._

Optimus frowned. _We are equally strong._

Megatron gave Optimus a smug look. _If you say so..._

Optimus gave him a smirk in return. _Then why have _I_ been the one to win the majority of our confrontations?_

_Because you're _lucky_, that's why! It's got _nothing_ to do with skill,_ Megatron snarled.

_Luck isn't the half of it,_ Optimus replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. _I couldn't have beaten you as often as I have if it was _just_ luck_.

Megatron simply shook his head obstinately, which caused Optimus to sigh.

The two entered Grand Central again, once more being engulfed in the hustle and bustle of everyone trying to get _somewhere_. Eventually, the found an information stand and picked up a map of the subway system and island as a whole as well as numerous brochures for attractions. They sat down on a bench and began to look through everything they had acquired.

"What _is_ most of this?" Megatron murmured, borderline astonished.

Optimus shrugged and flipped over one of the flimsy, shiny pieces of paper. "No clue."

There was a brief silence as they both looked through the advertisements.

_You know, _Megatron started, _we make very bad humans. People are ignoring us, but you can tell that we don't..._fit_ quite right._

_That's what we're here to remedy—in order to be convincing, in order to achieve our aims...we have to blend in seamlessly. Which is going to be very hard for you, considering how much you like the spotlight._

Megatron glowered at the floor, but said nothing. They were enveloped in silence before Megatron broke it once more:

_How the _hell_ are we going to get speaking like them down? Even in this city alone there are different accents!_

_We do our best. I think just pick an accent and learn it—although we _do_ have to worry about sounding too young, it'd seem like we're trying too hard._

Megatron snorted and shook his head. _This is _obnoxious. _We can't sound too educated, too uncultured, too young, too old..._

_No-one ever said this would be easy._

_Quiet, Prime,_ Megatron snarled. _You're talking all of this with surprising grace. You weren't in league with Starscream, were you?_

Optimus was horrified by the accusation, and it must have shown, since Megatron backed down, paranoia assuaged. _Why haven't you tried to contact your fleshling friends anyway?_

_Megatron, do you _honestly_ believe that _they_ would believe our situation? And how do I explain _you_, anyway? They'd more likely than not waste you on the spot before I could get around to the 'if-you-kill-him-you-kill-me-too' bit._

Megatron made a noise of acknowledgement. _And it's not as if we can go to the Decepticons and expect not to be eliminated._ The Decepticon leader sighed heavily. _Well, then. It appears that deception is our best option._

Optimus winced inwardly at the obviously deliberate phrasing and sighed softly. _Well, we have our map. Time to get jobs._

_This will be interesting, _Megatron drawled as he pushed himself to his feet.

Optimus had the sinking feeling that "interesting" would be far too tame a description. _Speaking of Starscream,_ Optimus began, catching Megatron's attention. _Why did you recruit—and keep—him?_

_Think of it this way: had I left Starscream to his own devices, it is entirely probable that he would have actually managed to gain skills and followers of his own. As it was, I didn't want a _third_ active faction in the war I started, and so made myself too tempting of a target for him to pass up. Having him near me meant that I could watch over him and curb his bids for power._ Megatron paused. _It also kept _me_ from becoming complacent in my power. Having to constantly keep my guard up around my own was good for me._

_Good for your _paranoia_ you mean._

Megatron shrugged. _It doesn't matter. All that matters _now_ is that when I get my hands on that piece of scrap, he is going to _regret_ doing this to me._

Optimus sighed and shook his head. _Whatever._ He paused, thinking before speaking again:

_Megatron._

_What?_ He replied, obviously annoyed.

_Why did you start the war?_

Megatron looked over to Optimus, annoyance changed to amusement. _Why do you want to know?_

_Just want to hear justification from the Devil's mouth._

Megatron grinned. _Long answer or short one?_

_Short—you tend to ramble._

Megatron rolled his eyes. _Then: It was necessary._

_NECESSARY?! All that pain, all that suffering, the destruction of the very thing that gives us life was _necessary?

_Did you _notice_ our life before I took matters into my own hands? We were _stagnant. _We were decaying, rusting, becoming impotent, lazy, _vile._ We were locked in a heady nightmare of peace. We had stopped exploring because, why bother? We had everything we could ever need. I could see us spiraling into a slow, torturous extinction from inaction. I saw the need for a revival, and while I _tried_ to work within the confines of my station for a while, I was getting _nowhere.

_I wracked my processor, trying to figure out what I could _possibly_ do to get through to the lethargic citizens of our homeworld. I endured many sleepless nights as all my peaceful plans fell through, one after another. Then, one evening, I became so frustrated that I ended up wasting a good part of my lodging in frustration. _

_And that _freed_ me. That was my realization—destruction. Only warfare—which we seemed to have long forgotten—would be the way to awaken the torpid race I found myself stuck in. So, I began to spread a new message throughout the citizenry, and found that it attracted a much more vigorous response. All creatures desire power—and with me telling them that they could have it if they only followed me...well, there were so many takers I had to create a name for this new faction. Decepticons. Not because _we_ deceive...but because we see through the deception that peace is good._

My_ war breathed life back into our existence. It made life worth _living_. Gave Cybertronians _purpose._ How are those things evil? Admittedly, I didn't count on the destruction of the All-Spark, but don't you think that once I had taken care of the resistance against me I would start rebuilding even as the Decepticons expanded throughout the universe? I would _remake_ the Cybertronian race after all the death I incited. All things must die in order for new ones to take their place. I was doing this for the _good_ of the Cybertronian race!_

Optimus _stared_ at Megatron, who seemed quite pleased with himself. _Seriously?_

Megatron rolled his eyes. _No, I lie. Actually, I _have_ told you the truth. Although you're the only one who's heard it. I let Cybertronians believe what they want to about my motivations._

Optimus shook his head. _You are a sick, sick creature._

Megatron shrugged. _Think what you will. I do not seek your approval. And anyway, wasn't it _your_ idea to destroy the All-Spark rather than let it fall into my hands? Aren't _you_ the one who doomed our race, not I?_

Optimus's eyes narrowed. _Don't project your megalomania on me._

Megatron chuckled darkly. _Think about it, Prime._

An uncomfortable silence fell before Megatron changed the subject, asking: _What _are_ all these...places?_

_What are what places?_

_These, _Megatron said, gesturing to a shop. _What are they?_

Optimus sighed inwardly. 'We will address the issue of "his" war later, I suppose.' _Well..._ Optimus paused. _I believe that is a high-end clothing store._

_High-end?_

_Um...expensive. Very expensive. _

_Uh-huh. Hey, what're those? I saw them at the grocery store but we didn't buy any, _Megatron commented as they walked past a Bakery.

_They're..._ Optimus struggled to find an explanation. _I can't really tell you. They're food and I know that they're supposed to be sweet and I know their _names_, but..._

_Then we have to buy some._

_With all the money we don't have._

_Come, Prime. Live a little._

_No, _Optimus said flatly. _We have to worry about our _basic_ needs first._

Megatron almost _pouted_ before sighing and running a hand through his hair, before nodding stiffly. _Understandable...hey, what's that?_

Optimus sighed and followed a little ways behind Megatron, who stopped to look at a sidewalk vendor's goods with blatant curiosity. The former Decepticon flitted from chachka to chachka*, picking them up and turning them over in his hands. The merchant was obviously becoming annoyed with him pawing everything, but apparently held out hope that Megatron might buy something.

Only to be abruptly disappointed as Megatron moved on to the next vendor. Optimus found himself smiling ruefully as a steady stream of distracted thoughts radiated off of Megatron, the Decepticon obviously not bothering to shield, since, well, what was Prime going to _learn_ from him?

A surprising amount, actually.

Optimus had always known that Megatron was smart—almost alarmingly so. When he had turned his substantial intellect towards Galactic (possibly Universal) domination, Optimus had feared the worst. How was he, a newly minted Prime, supposed to keep _Megatron_, of all Cybertronians, from conquest? It was absurd! The only thing that had tempered his intelligence was his immense pride that caused him to overestimate his own abilities and undervalue those of others.

Now, he was allowed to see the intellect Megatron tended to keep carefully hidden beneath layers of arrogance and pomp. His insight wasn't _keen,_ per se, but he had meticulous observational skills. The only problem was that there was _so much_ to observe that his mind kept on jumping from topic to topic, sensation to sensation, wandering in a pathway that was almost quantum in behavior.

Optimus decided to ignore him unless a particularly strong thought hit him, and contented himself with observing the civilian population and their surroundings.

He had never seen such a wide range of humans before. Sure, NEST took members from all branches of the American military and some from British forces (Optimus had heard of the possibility of expanding even more, since the Decepticons were no longer a purely American threat), and there was a mixture of ethnicities in the group, but _this_...everything else paled in comparison.

Optimus had never heard so many languages spoken! Admittedly, in his curiosity and diplomatic nature, he had learned most of the Terran languages, so he could understand what they were saying, but it took his now-organic mind a little longer to process the jumps from Spanish to English to Chinese to Farsi...it was astonishing.

As Megatron absorbed _things_ with intense curiosity, Optimus turned his mind to _people._

Optimus wasn't sure how long they wandered, and didn't really _care_ where they wandered either, but somehow, they ended up in a section of the city Optimus recognized from the movies he occasionally caught Bumblebee watching with Sam:

Times Square.

It became even harder for Optimus to think, being as barraged by Megatron's distracted thoughts as he was. There was _so much_ going on it was almost overwhelming. They walked by a store called "Toys 'R Us," and Megatron stopped dead in his tracks. Optimus frowned and looked where he was.

_What _are_ those things? What's going on in there?_

_They're toys, Megatron. They're...things humans play with..._

_Play with? _Megatron repeated, an eyebrow quirking. _How?_

Without waiting for Optimus's answer, Megatron walked quickly into the store, Optimus trailing behind with a sigh.

'I feel like I'm...what's the human phrase for it?..._babysitting_,' he thought glumly as he followed their Bond through the throng of parents and their children. He was sure he looked out of place, but from how he was struggling to keep his jaw from dropping, he was pretty sure he got slotted under 'tourist'.

The colors and the noise and the _variety_ were...stunning to Optimus. The only child he had ever had _any_ sort of contact with was Captain Lennox's young girl, but now he was _surrounded_ by them. He found himself covertly watching how the parent/child dynamic worked, as well as the one between siblings.

A wave of shocked amusement hit him before he heard Megatron say, _Optimus, come here. I want to show you something._

The suppressed glee in Megatron's voice made Optimus's stomach sink towards his heels, but he eventually found where Megatron was standing. His eyebrows shot up and the sense of amusement across their bond grew stronger.

_Transmorgifiers? _

"_Alien robots in disguise among us," _Megatron paraphrased. _Sound familiar, Prime?_

Primus_...imagine when the public finds out that what they believed to be science _fiction_ is actually science _fact.

_I hope I am around for it. I would love to see it...oh _Unicron,_ this must be some kind of bad joke... _Megatron trailed off as he picked up a package.

_What? _Optimus asked and walked over to look at the toy Megatron was holding.

_Starholler? _Optimus read and Megatron was snickering as he put the package back.

_I _need_ to use that on Starscream before I waste his sorry ass,_ Megatron said with vicious smugness._ This is fascinating. I want to look around some more..._

Optimus sighed and followed along behind Megatron, feeling no need to stop the Decepticon. As long as his curiosity was engaged in something other than destruction and death and plotting evil schemes, Optimus was more than happy to let him run loose. He just had to be on guard in case Megatron decided to be vindictive over some perceived slight.

_Hey, Megatron,_ Optimus prompted as a thought floated across his mind.

_What?_ The Decepticon replied distractedly.

_Why do you swear by Unicron? Isn't that basically like swearing by the Terran devil?_

Optimus got the distinct feeling of a shrug before an answer: _Self-preservation._

_What?_

_Think of it like this: I _know_ Unicron exists. I also know that, with _my_ luck, I might run across it. Now, assume I _do_, and it finds out I revere it—all powerful cosmic beings tend to have egos as big as their titles. So, chance is that if it goes to kill off everything, it'll at least find me _amusing_, and so spare me. This will either give me more time to abscond elsewhere or leaves Unicron unguarded long enough so I can take advantage of the confusion to secure power for myself. From what we can tell, Primus is no longer an active presence in our plane of existence. So, tell me—who is it better to revere? A non-participatory God or a very real, very dangerous Devil?_

Optimus sighed. _Why'd I even bother asking?_

Megatron simply smirked as he waited at the exit door to the toy store, walking out of the glass doors once Optimus had caught up to him.

Dusk was slowly descending upon the city, but the lights and traffic kept the darkness at bay, activity never slowing—in fact, it appeared to be speeding up. The brightly glowing illuminations streaked across Optimus's vision, leaving odd and disconcerting after-images on his retina. His stomach growled in complaint, having not eaten since...well, it had been some time.

_Megatron—_

_Already ahead of you, _the Decepticon replied, having vanished from Optimus's _sight_...but not from his senses. Optimus followed the tug of their Bond, only to nearly run into the Decepticon as he returned with two...'Damn, what's the word? Hot dogs?'

Optimus took one from the Decepticon before he could claim he had gotten both for himself, earning a small smirk from his counterpart.

_Did you steal these? _Optimus asked.

Megatron gave him a dry look. _You're not complaining. _

_There are times survival takes precedence. _

_Perhaps you aren't as dim as I have always thought you to be,_ Megatron commented mildly as he took a bite of the hot dog.

Optimus snorted and shook his head. _I'm a Prime for a reason._

_I suppose._

Silence fell between them as they walked, Megatron quickly being distracted by the plethora of shiny, flashing objects in the same way that Optimus was amused to discover how the _type_ of people had changed with the shifting of the day.

_What is a SportsCenter?_

Optimus made a "hm?" sound before looking where Megatron was. _ESPN SportsCenter. Um...Well, it's a place that focuses on sports._

_Which are...?_

_There are a number of them, although the most popular in the United States are football, basketball, baseball, and ice hockey. I think...this time of year is baseball season. _

_Okay, fine, but_ what are they?!

Optimus paused, thought, frowned, then sighed. _C'mon. Let's see if we can get in. _

_Can't see why not._

_You obviously don't remember how bad we look. At least we've dried out._

Megatron snorted as the two approached the restaurant/bar, quickly and quietly entering along with the press of other people. They hung back and Optimus let Megatron look around, he keeping one eye on the Decepticon as he, too, absorbed their surroundings.

_Sports are an athletic competition, it seems, but it's not about survival._

_It's not like the gladiatorial matches you set up on Cybertron. _

Megatron shook his head almost imperceptibly. _Then what's the point? _

_As far as I can tell, it's simply fun. Both to play _and_ watch._

_Mm-hm..._

Megatron picked up a baseball and turned it over in his hands before putting it back. _What are the Mets and Yankees? _

_Two baseball teams that are based here in New York City, I _think.

_Aren't you the wellspring of information._

_Shut up, Megatron. _

Megatron smirked and shrugged slightly. He was distracted by the flickers of light from the bar and looked in to find massive amounts of televisions.

_Isn't that a little...excessive?_ He said skeptically. _And they're nearly all watching the same thing!_

_No, there are small differences—see how that team is red versus red but the other is black versus blue? That means there are two different games going on that people can watch. _

Megatron shook his head. _Very easily distracted, aren't they?_

_Perhaps._

Optimus noticed the disapproving look they were getting for simply loitering and half-dragged Megatron out of the place.

_But I wanted to watch more of the game! It looked interesting! _Megatron protested petulantly.

_There are sports competitions every night. You will have plenty of time to watch them._

_Really? _Every_ night?_

_For the most part, yes._

_Don't they get tired?_

_That's why they sometimes have days off._

_Days of rest?_

_Yes._

_Huh. Hey, what's Coca-Cola?_

Optimus sighed. 'What's the saying? Kid in a candy shop? Who knew he'd be so damn _fascinated_ when he professes to hate the species.' _A kind of drink. Like the Mountain Dew you had._

_Ah. Well, we'll stay away from that, then._

Megatron stopped to look up at a _very_ large billboard advertisement for the GAP. _Prime._

_What?_

_There are pictures of half-naked males and females all over the place—why? _

_For the most part, the pictures are...trying to sell something. _

Sell_ something?_

_By appealing to the attractiveness of the person—if _they_ are this attractive and using this product, surely if you use this product it will make you equally attractive._

_That's nonsense,_ Megatron replied, incredulous.

_It's psychological. You'll see._

Megatron snorted and shook his head before being distracted by more bright lights. _What's an Olive Garden?_

_A restaurant._

_A what?_

_A place where you can sit down and have people make food for you and bring it to you. For a price._

Megatron scowled. _For a price. Always for a price. Is that _all_ that this species thinks about? Money? _He paused as he watched a rather attractive-looking young woman walk by, clearing his throat and flushing once she had passed and he realized he had stared. _And sex. Money and sex._

Optimus suppressed a snicker. _Who knows? We'll find out over time, won't we?_

_Unfortunately._ There was a pause as Megatron looked around. _There are other food establishments, I think. Lots of 'pizza' places. What's pizza?_

Optimus paused. _Something that both Sam and Commander Lennox enjoy._

_Okay, so...?_

Optimus shrugged. _I can tell you what I remember from the internet, but it will not be helpful._

Megatron snorted and shook his head. _Gyros, hot dogs, nuts...okay, add a third obsession—food. _

_And do you blame them?_

_About the last one? Not at all._

There was another brief pause before Megatron spoke again: _I see some large pictures advertising something coming out on a particular date. What does _that_ mean?_

_Most likely they're advertising a TV show. _

Megatron slowly shook his head. _This is _dizzying. _They are constantly assailed on all sides, a kind of sensory overload. How do they _deal_ with it?_

_They grow up with it. They're jaded to it. Like we will have to become._

Megatron sighed. _And these thrice-blasted _chemicals_ circulating through their bodies._

_Hormones._

_Whatever._

Optimus was distracted as he caught sight of a particularly interesting building.

_United States Armed Forces Recruitment Center. I think we found where we need to go once we can pass as them._

_Huh? Oh. Yes, I suppose that _would_ be where we would go. But I don't think we'll be able to be convincing for a while. _

_Agreed. Right now, everything is just too _new_ and we're still adapting to these bodies..._

_Yeah, well—_

Optimus had to steady Megatron when someone bumped into him, but the Decepticon's attention was far from Optimus and focused on the person who had bumped into him and walked on as if nothing had happened.

Megatron tried to lunge after the person, but Optimus kept a strong grip on him. Optimusdidn't need Megatron to make a scene, so he dragged the Decepticon away, Megatron surprised enough to take a few willing steps before starting to dig in his heels.

Optimus was simply glad that it appeared his was physically stronger than Megatron. Once they were relatively safe (see: inconspicuous), Optimus let go.

Megatron immediately jerked away and snarled. "What was _that_ for?!"

"We don't need to be thrown in jail, _idiot,_" Optimus hissed back. "And you causing public disturbances in a very public place is a good way to have it happen!"

"It was _his_ fault! He bumped into _me! _He _deserved_ to be punished!"

"That is not your place to determine!"

"It _should be_!"

There was a resounding silence after that statement. _Megatron, you are _no longer_ Lord High Protector. Primus, you no longer have _any_ power as you are. Right now, you and I are simply homeless bums__! You and I are starting at the very, very _bottom_ of the human social system. You want power? You want prestige? You want control? Fine. You can _eventually_ achieve everything that you desire, but you have start over. YOU HAVE NO CHOICE,_ Optimus snarled over their connection, grabbing Megatron's wrist, keeping the Decepticon beside him. Optimus took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. _We will start tomorrow. We will learn how to pass as human. Then we can enlist in the military, and you can start to accrue the power you so covet._ Optimus was ashamed that the last bit came out almost bitter. There was more to life than _power_, but that seemed to be all Megatron cared about.

Perhaps it always had been.

Megatron gave him an inscrutable look, garnet eyes glowing in the shadows. There was a beat of tense silence before Megatron smirked, shoulders relaxing. _Perhaps I have misjudged you, Prime. Very well. I will refrain from getting in altercations which could result in my being arrested._

Optimus was about to relax when he found himself pinned against the wall of the building behind him, Megatron's forearm pressing against his neck, the Decepticon's body turned so that Optimus would be unable to find any particularly good place to hit. _Just a warning, Prime,_ Megatron growled, his eyes locking onto Optimus's. _If you seek to further order me around, things will get very, very painful for you._

Optimus's eyes narrowed. _You will _try.

Megatron put just a little more pressure on Optimus's neck before backing away, his eyes never leaving Optimus's.

_And succeed._

Optimus had the bad feeling that many of their..._disagreements_...would be settled in a less than polite way.

_Come on. There's still stuff to see, _Megatron half-growled over their connection, stepping out into the street again, Optimus following a breath behind. Megatron was right—there _was_ a lot to see—but Optimus had a feeling that it would be quite some time before they got beyond the surface of what it meant to be human.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author**: Phew! Long chapter is long. Especially when fighting for inspiration.

**Disclaimer**: hahahaha...

---

It had been a fortnight since they had arrived in New York City, and Optimus had discovered that being homeless offered him a unique perspective on the human social class system.

Being 'black' _and_ homeless made the situation even _more_ interesting.

Optimus had known that humans could be shallow and focus solely on appearance (which was a blessing, since it meant that the Autobots were able to hide more easily), but he hadn't realized how _detailed_ that shallowness could be. A flick of the eyes over him and he was already judged, based on so many factors it left Optimus reeling.

The first two things that humans focused on were his skin color and assigned sex, and the preconceived notions they had of a 'black man,' no matter what race the observer might be. The main problem with that was that Optimus had _no idea_ what the stereotypes _were_. It was a lot of extrapolation from the slurs he heard addressed to him and what he caught in different conversations. That he was judged without having even been _spoken_ to hurt.

'Then again, was I so different?' he wondered as he watched the sidewalk traffic while he leaned against an empty storefront. 'Any Decepticon was immediately evil, regardless of what I had known to be the case prior to Megatron's..._insurrection_. However, having not been raised as a human, I'm continually confused by the expectations that are already set in the general psyche.'

Optimus sighed and his eyes dropped to the cracked pavement before him. These things made it difficult for Optimus to even find a _job_, and Optimus had very little idea _why._ Again and again he was turned away, told to find a job elsewhere, and it hadn't taken too long for Optimus to figure out that it was because he was a _black man._ Solely on the basis of his sex and race he was barred from some opportunities. It was _baffling._

_Then_ there was the problem of how he, compared to other humans, spoke. So _much_ of it was in simile and metaphor and the sheer amount of slang was mind-boggling. He had to be careful of _slurs,_ which were a sub-group of slang, and had to make sure he used the _right kind_ of slang. Somehow, he could sound 'old' or 'young', and there were a plethora of terms that were class and occupation specific and _then_ he had to be careful not to 'speak like a girl'. What was _that_ supposed to mean?!

Optimus _technically_ knew how to speak the language, but he definitely couldn't speak it like a native. He knew from listening in on non-English conversations that it was true for _all_ of the languages he had learned off of the internet. Nothing he had studied could have even _remotely_ prepared him for the challenge he was facing in conquering the English language.

All of it gave him a _headache_ and made him despair at ever becoming remotely convincingly human.

Optimus raised his eyes and groaned inwardly at how a few police officers were looking at him. He pushed away, let his hands hang where they could see them, and continued to walk.

'Stupid racial profiling,' he grumbled. 'Bet Megatron isn't dealing with _that_.'

No, Megatron probably had his own issues, but just as he didn't mention his to the Decepticon, the Decepticon didn't mention his problems to Optimus.

Optimus turned a corner to head towards his and Megatron's shared hole-in-the-wall when Megatron nearly ran into him.

"There you are," the 'con said irritably.

Optimus's eyebrows raised slowly. "You were looking for me?"

"Damn straight I was, but you weren't contactable via the connection, so you forced me to go out in the goddamn sunlight..." Megatron growled and grabbed Optimus's wrist, yanking him into the shadow. "I found an actual apartment for us."

Optimus's eyebrows snapped up. "Really?"

"Yeah, no thanks to _you_."

"Have you even been _trying_ to get a job?"

Megatron smirked wickedly, which made Optimus groan. "Nevermind, I don't want to know."

Megatron proceeded to drag Optimus along behind him, Optimus wrenching his wrist free before they reached sunlight. Megatron stuck to the shaded areas as he led Optimus along.

_Where _have_ you been, Prime? And why were you so tightly shielded?_

_I've been looking for work and have found nothing so far. I was shielded because I didn't need you distracting me at an inopportune moment._

Megatron snorted and shook his head. _Whatever. Here we are._

Optimus's eyes widened as he looked at where Megatron had taken him. _And you afforded this place _how?

_Oh, I have my ways, _Megatron replied in an almost sing-song way, making Optimus place his head in a hand.

_Okay, I _really_ don't want to know what you've been doing these nights,_ he grumbled, making Megatron send malignant amusement over their connection.

Megatron cordially greeted the doorman, who gave Optimus a suspicious glance that made Optimus's shoulders slump in resignation. Megatron pushed the button for the elevator, and as they waited, Optimus took stock of his new surroundings.

It was a _vast_ improvement from their former living conditions. There was a lobby with a doorman, and everything was clean and well-ordered. The elevator opened—empty, thankfully—and Megatron entered, Optimus a step behind. The former Decepticon pressed a button for the 14th floor, and the elevator started to move with a jolt.

_This is so weird, _Optimus thought, not realizing he had thought it over their link until Megatron chuckled.

_Yeah, I know,_ came the surprising reply. There was a degree of unease in Megatron's voice, however, which probably indicated that he wasn't as at ease with this piece of technology they were dealing with as he seemed.

Thankfully, the elevator ride was over quickly, and if Megatron stepped a little hastily out of the box, Optimus didn't comment on it. Optimus followed the Decepticon down the hallway before he stopped and faced a door, taking a key out of his pocket. _Our new home, _he said over their line before opening the door. Optimus stepped in behind Megatron and his eyebrows steadily climbed towards his hairline. _Okay, I really, _really_ don't want to know where you got the money to afford this kind of place._

Megatron chuckled darkly and threw the keys on the table. _And it wasn't entirely furnished when I first got it, either._

"Primus," Optimus groaned. "You're doing something illegal, aren't you?"

"Maybe," Megatron drawled.

Optimus sighed and shook his head.

"You're not complaining," Megatron drawled and kicked his shoes off so they landed underneath the couch.

"I appreciate the air conditioning and a bed to sleep on and a _shower._ Because of that, I'm not going to call you on illegality of your actions and series of decisions that were probably made in a rather immoral fashion. Just know that if you get in trouble, _you_ are the one who will be dealing with it."

"Aw, the Prime wants to be a model citizen in this hive of sin. How _endearing._"

"Shut up," Optimus said succinctly and threw his shoe at him, which landed squarely in the 'cons's face, making him yelp and run to wash his face in the nearby kitchen sink.

It made Optimus feel a _little_ better and he took a moment to look around his new home.

It wasn't _that_ large, but definitely large enough for two people. Optimus could see the kitchen, where Megatron was toweling his face dry with an angry glare at Optimus, who brushed it off. Stove, refrigerator, cooking range, microwave, toaster. His eyes continued a sweep and he walked onto the hardwood floor of the living room. There was an odd ensemble of furniture that Megatron probably found on the curbside and fixed up and cleaned enough to be functional. He continued his walk and came across _two_ bedrooms, which made him sigh in relief. He hadn't even known it was a worry, but now that he knew he didn't have to share a _bed_ with Megatron, he was relieved. He entered the one that obviously hadn't been claimed and looked it over.

There were the bare essentials, but it wasn't as if Optimus needed much—a bed, a closet, a small bedside table with a radio-alarm-clock already situated on it. He opened the closet and was surprised to see an array of clothing waiting for him.

_This for me?_ He asked the Decepticon, intrigued.

_Can't have you go around looking like a hobo, can I?_

_Aw, I didn't know you cared, Megs. _

_WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?!_

Optimus smirked and took out a new outfit for himself as Megatron stormed over to the doorway, eyes narrowed in anger. Optimus greeted his expression with a cheerful smile. "Well, _you_ can call me Prime, which is fairly short, but Megatron can be quite the mouthful. So, why not Megs?"

"Because _Prime_ isn't a bastardization of your name like _Megs_ is for mine," the former Decepticon leader snarled.

"Mike, then."

Megatron blinked. "What?"

"If you don't want me to call you Megs, I can call you Mike. That _is_ the acceptable shortening of Michael, which is your chosen human name."

Megatron obviously wavered between a number of emotions, although the primary one was outrage. "I am _not_ Michael," he said softly, his voice low and heated.

"As a human, you are," Optimus replied. "As I am Orion," he murmured, stripping off his shirt before tossing it in a corner to be thrown out later.

"_Human_," Megatron repeated, voice thick with loathing. "Do you know how _easy_ it is to make a great deal of money very quickly by being more despicable than I've _ever_ been?" he asked.

Optimus almost had to _peel_ his jeans off, glaring at the rumpled pile of cloth on the floor once he had gotten them off. "I have an idea," Optimus replied dryly. "Especially considering that you've managed to accrue enough money to _buy_ this place. Am I wrong?" Optimus asked as he looked up and over at Megatron, who shrugged and looked away.

"Yeah, this place is _mine,_" he muttered.

Optimus sighed and picked up his new clothes—including underwear, though he had to go looking for it—before pushing Megatron out of the doorway. "Where're the towels?" he asked.

"Closet near the bathroom," Megatron replied, and Optimus opened the aforementioned closet, taking one out. He stroked it briefly before sighing.

"These cost a lot, didn't they?" he grumbled before entering the bathroom and closing the door behind him. He hung the clothes he had brought with him over the towel rack and divested himself of his underwear, immediately placing it in the trash. He relieved himself in the toilet before walking over to the shower.

It was a shower/tub combo and was _clean_. Megatron already had their stash of cleaning supplies there—Optimus had wondered where the bag had gone to a few mornings ago. Optimus stepped in and closed the curtain behind him before turning on the water as hot as it could go. His muscles spasmed at the sudden heat, and he turned it down slightly to a less scalding temperature. He grimaced as he saw grime being washed away from him and he simply rinsed himself before actually using body wash and shampoo.

His coordination had increased exponentially since those first few weeks, and now he could almost act with the same nearly unconscious ease as born-humans. Once he was clean and in new clothes, he exited the bathroom, towel draped around his shoulders. He found Megatron sitting on the couch, head propped up on a table as he watched a television show upside down.

Optimus's hand came to his face and he sighed. 'Strange, strange, _strange_ con.' "I don't suppose I can hope that you legally bought the TV."

"You could _hope,_" came the answer, which meant that Megatron hadn't obtained it through legal channels.

"I'm guessing that goes for _all_ the electronics you have?" Which was a substantial amount—a video game console, _two_ laptops, numerous light fixtures, a stereosytem, and, obviously, the television.

"Maybe. There's a cell phone for you on the kitchen table."

Optimus sighed and walked over, picking up the object he saw on the table. "Why? It's not like I need to _call_ you to _speak_ to you."

"You _are_ going to make others contacts, Optimus, and having a phone helps in that," came the careless reply.

Optimus turned it over in his hands before he sat down in a chair at the table and started examining it.

Figuring out the phone occupied him until the sun set, and it had been about 2 in the afternoon when he started.

He was startled when he caught Megatron moving in his peripheral vision, and nearly dropped the gadget he had been exploring. Megatron smirked. "Just getting dinner. You don't mind pizza, do you?"

"No, not at all," Optimus replied, puzzled. Where was Megatron going to get pizza from?

The Decepticon opened the freezer part of the refrigerator and took out a box—frozen pizza.

'Oh. I see,' he thought before his attention returned to the phone.

He was brought out of his concentration when Megatron flicked the back of his head. Optimus flinched and glared at the Decepticon, who was giving him a smirk. "It's done."

Optimus pushed away from the table, absently slipping the cell phone into a pocket of his jeans. After a few minutes of bickering, they figured out how to cut the pizza so they'd both get enough to eat, before settling down.

Optimus still enjoyed food, even though he _was_ getting used to it. He wasn't particularly picky, although Megatron was becoming so, which Optimus found amusing. The sat together on the couch as Megatron flipped through the channels in his odd position while Optimus sat with his legs tucked under him, leaning on the armrest as he idly chewed, watching the images flash by on the screen. "How can you tell what's playing when you're moving so fast? How'd you get cable anyw...this is satellite isn't it? And you're stealing it."

Megatron snickered in reply.

Optimus put his plate next to Megatron's head when he was done eating and sunk into the couch. It was _so_ nice to be sitting on something other than concrete.

"Y'know, Prime I could—"

"No, I'll find a job myself."

"If you say so."

"Don't give me that tone. I can _totally_ do it."

"Good luck, especially in this economy. The only growth industries are liquor and porn, I swear."

Optimus sighed heavily. _Such a pessimist_.

_Not when I'm right._

Optimus took the phone out of his pocket and turned it over in his hand before placing it on the table and stealing the remote out of Megatron's grasp, making the 'con sit up quickly and make a grab for it.

A short scuffle later had Optimus sitting on the small of Megatron's back, his feet propped up on the table, watching Jeopardy as the Decepticon simmered beneath him.

"You can get off now," Megatron said in a tight voice. "I have to go in ten minutes."

Optimus obligingly stood so the Decepticon could move, Prime watching Megatron's every move. The former Decepticon stood, muttering darkly as he walked to the bedroom he had claimed. Optimus sat down again, sprawling across the couch.

He hadn't realized the sheer _amount_ of television programming humanity had come up with until he was going through the channels.

"You're easily amused, aren't you?" Megatron murmured as he came out, making Optimus's eyes flick over to him before returning for a double-take.

"Okay, I _really_ don't want to know what you do," the Autobot groaned at how well-groomed Megatron had come out of his room.

Megatron laughed and cocked his head slightly. "You definitely don't. Good luck with that job search of yours. Your key to this apartment is in the nightstand's drawer. Have a good night," he finished with false sugary sweetness before leaving, locking the door behind him.

Optimus looked blankly at where Megatron had been standing for a few minutes before sending up a silent prayer to whatever deity might be listening and turned off the TV in favor of examining the laptops.

–

There was a loud ring right next to Optimus's ear and he shot up in alarm, entire body tensed as if expecting a Decepticon attack. When the ring persisted, he calmed his heart and righted the chair he had knocked over (he had fallen asleep next to the laptop) and looked at the phone, which was ringing determinedly. He pushed the green button and held it up next to his ear.

"Yeah?" he asked, voice mumbled with sleep.

"Orion?"

Optimus blinked and groaned. "What happened?"

"Why do you think something happened?"

"You'd just contact me via our link unless something was up and you needed to keep up appearances."

"You were so deeply asleep I couldn't. Seriously, nothing's wrong. Just...wanted to make sure you're okay."

Optimus blinked before his eyes narrowed and he stood, looking around the apartment. "Why?"

There was a hesitation on the other end of the line that said he was in trouble and something might go down at his apartment—perhaps a search for something that Megatron was hiding.

"Fine," Optimus sighed, "just get your ass back here as soon as you can. I don't want to deal with your crap alone."

"You're too kind," Megatron drawled before the connection broke.

Optimus pulled the phone away and looked at the screen, which snapped back to display the background he had chosen. He sighed heavily and turned on a light, throwing off the darkness the room had previously been cloaked in. Nothing reacted in surprise, and when Optimus concentrated he couldn't hear anything out of place—and his hearing was slightly better than normal.

He sighed softly and walked over to the bookshelf he saw in one corner and picked a title off one ledge, looking at it.

His eyebrows slowly rose and a smirk flitted across his face. "Oh, you've set yourself up for ridicule," he murmured to himself before he sat down on the couch with the book in hand, opening it to a dog-eared page.

He was laughing when Megatron returned, and didn't stop even when Megatron ripped the book out of his hand.

"What're you _doing,_ Prime?" he hissed heatedly.

"I _never_ would have guessed you'd read _that_," Optimus hiccuped, gesturing languidly to the book Megatron was putting away.

"Shove it, Prime," came the disgruntled snarl before the former Decepticon stalked off, his door slamming behind him.

Optimus wiped the tears away from his eyes, chuckling as he stood. He made sure the front door was locked before he walked over to the laptop and brought up the internet. Might as well look online for jobs.

He was surfing all the major job sites when Megatron had calmed down enough to glare at Optimus instead of glaring _and_ sputtering incoherently.

"You shouldn't've left it out for me to find," Optimus said casually as Megatron moved around in the kitchen. Optimus just barely caught the plate that had been thrown his way, giving Megatron a small smile as the Decepticon growled darkly. "How long have you had this place, anyway?" Optimus asked as the idea that he might have been sleeping outside needlessly annoying.

"Since yesterday," Megatron said. "_Most_ of the furnishings are from the...previous occupant."

"Which was why you were able to buy it."

"Mm," Megatron murmured from behind the refrigerator door.

"Are you hiding something here?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Why else would you've checked up on me unless something important is here?"

"If you don't know, you can't testify against me."

"Primus...I really, _really_ don't want to know, now," Optimus muttered under his breath.

"Find anything online?" Megatron asked, not so subtly diverting conversation away from _his_ chosen profession.

"Maybe," Optimus answered as he stood and walked over to the kitchen, going through their new bread drawer to get a bagel. "It's not like I'll be able to get anything particularly good-paying or glamorous."

Megatron snickered as he poured milk into his cereal (Optimus had no idea how he could eat the stuff—he was certain that it was simply pure sugar with a little grain of some sort added in to _appear_ healthier than just eating candy).

"Oh, don't give me that look," Megatron sighed as he walked over to the table with his bowl of Reese's Puffs, sitting down before starting to eat.

Optimus sighed heavily and took cream cheese out of the fridge, preparing his own breakfast. "You _do_ know how utterly unhealthy that stuff is."

Megatron shrugged and swallowed. "Don't care."

Optimus shook his head before taking a bite out of a newly cream cheesed bagel. _You're impossible._

_So you say,_ Megatron replied, humor in his voice.

_Hey, shouldn't this be your dinner?_

_I _like_ breakfast food._

_You are such a strange creature._

Megatron flashed Optimus a slightly dangerous grin, which Optimus replied to with an eye-roll. Optimus picked up the other half of his bagel and went back to the laptop that he had claimed as his and began searching for employment once more.

Optimus distantly heard Megatron putter around and the door to Megatron's room close, signifying that the man was probably asleep for the day.

'Perhaps it is best that he has a mostly-nocturnal schedule_,' _Optimus thought idly. He finished his breakfast before standing and stretching, a groan passing his lips. _Again_ he had neglected to sleep in his bed.

Well, it wasn't _his_ fault that the technology humans had created was so _fascinating._

Optimus took another, brief shower (it felt so _nice_ to be _clean_ again) and picked out new clothes, changing into them and briefly examining himself in a mirror. He _definitely_ looked more respectable—perhaps someone would _actually_ hire him now?

'Don't know until I try,' Optimus thought. He found the key that Megatron had mentioned the previous night and tucked it into his pocket, while the other pocket was occupied with his new cell-phone. He stepped out of the room and locked the door behind him, just in time to see one of the other apartment's occupants.

Optimus gave him a small smile and a polite nod. "Good morning."

"You're new here?" the man asked.

Optimus frowned inwardly. He didn't like the man's tone. It was the same judgmental inflection that he had come to recognize from someone who inherently disliked him—probably because of some factor Optimus didn't know of.

"Yes," Optimus answered hesitantly.

The man made an unhappy 'hmph' sound, and Optimus turned away. 'I'll take the stairs,' he grumbled to himself when he saw the man was making a beeline to the elevator. 'Don't really want to spend time with him.'

It was many flights down, but Optimus didn't mind the exercise. It also gave him time to _plan_.

He needed a job—no, he _wanted_ a job, if only because it would make him feel _useful_, but also bring in some money, so he didn't have to rely on Megatron's ill-gotten gains to support himself in case those ill-gotten gains got Megatron in jail or prison or...well, dead would mean he, too would be dead, so it was more of a concern for if he continued to exist in his current state of being.

'Which is very, _very_ strange,' Optimus thought wryly.

He finally reached the bottom floor and exited the building after giving the doorman a polite hello, which was responded to with a grunt.

Optimus sighed once he was out and about again, thinking that there was something he was _missing._ Some cue or prejudice that he hadn't stumbled upon yet that was irritating the people in the building.

More than likely, it was his skin color, but it might've also had something to do with who he came in with and what he had looked like...

Optimus stopped in his tracks as things fell together in his mind and he had to keep from vocalizing a shocked laugh.

'Megatron—a well-to-do looking white man—comes in with _me_ in tow—an obviously down-on-his-luck black man—and takes me to his room. The next day I emerge clean and with new clothes, a key to his room, and a cell phone. I can see where people would draw some..._interesting_....conclusions.'

Optimus shook his head before heading off to answer some of the ads that he had seen on job sites.

Much walking and $20 in public transportation later, and he had _finally_ acquired employment.

'Appearance _does_ matter,' Optimus thought forlornly. He ran a hand over his hair and paused. '_Appearance_ matters.'

One problem with their appearances was that the Megatron _was_ pretty—not handsome, _pretty_. The silky silver hair that shimmered in any lighting, the delicate, exotic features, his lithe, thin build, and softly smoldering garnet eyes were just a touch too perfect to be called _handsome,_ so he was dubbed 'pretty'.

The funny thing was that Megatron was also undoubtedly _male._ There was a kind of contained savagery that simply _radiated_ from him, a brutality that drew people in while also shoving them away. Megatron's _appearance_ may have been feminine, but nothing else was, and _that_ confused some—_many_—that he and Megatron interacted with. All these things made him stick out in a crowd, which would probably backfire on him one day. Optimus hoped to be far away from the collateral damage.

Optimus, however, was never physically mistaken for anything but male—his _personality_, however, was constantly mistaken. His physique and coloration must have given to him a tough-guy image, but the moment he started _talking_, people were continually astonished at how different the reality was. Still, that appearance worked against him in most cases, so he needed to...modify it.

He stopped into the closest Duane Reade and went to the hair dye section. He wasn't _sure_ if it'd work—considering Megatron's hair refused to be cut—but it was worth a shot. Afterall, he wasn't doing anything _permanent_...

Twenty minutes later saw Optimus walk out of the drug store with many different shades of brown and black (he had _never_ imagined there would be so many!) in a plastic bag, along with a few other dyes to introduce to Megatron. It might...be beneficial to him and less of a headache for Optimus if he kept himself from being so out-standing.

Optimus _supposed_ that his eye color wouldn't be _entirely_ objectionable, but figured that it would probably be prudent to find if he could get...contact lenses? Something that would cover the color of his eyes. Wearing sunglasses all the time would _probably_ not be a good idea (although he was pretty sure Megatron would find a way to get away with doing _that_), so cosmetic contact lenses it would have to be. He would look up the price range later.

He had a bad feeling it would be expensive, which meant he'd have to save up for them.

Optimus sighed softly and returned to the apartment building, where he was—_again_, damnit—looked at oddly as he waited for the elevator. He took the contraption up to his floor (it still unnerved him), and went to the apartment he was now sharing with the former Decepticon leader.

The lights were off, but that wasn't a problem, given the time of day. Optimus closed and locked the door behind him before shucking his shoes and walking into the apartment proper. He dumped his purchases on the kitchen table and sorted through them until he found one that he thought _might_ work for him. He read the back of the box and followed the instructions _carefully_, not caring if one of Megatron's towels might be ruined.

Optimus was pleasantly surprised with the results. He looked very much his assigned ethnicity now—the only thing that stood out was his eye color.

'Which reminds me...'

Optimus walked over to the laptop he had claimed as his and began searching for price-ranges on cosmetic contact lenses.

When Megatron finally shuffled in, Optimus was making himself dinner (but had made enough for Megatron's _breakfast_ of sorts—he wasn't totally inconsiderate).

"How'd it go?" Megatron half slurred as he walked over to the coffee pot, dumping out the old coffee in the carafe into the sink.

"I have a job."

"Good," the Decepticon responded succinctly. "Doin' what?"

"Nothing glamorous," Optimus replied dryly.

"Mmph," was the only reply Optimus received.

Optimus handed over a cooked frozen dinner to Megatron, who took it wordlessly, picking up utensils before plopping into a chair at the kitchen table and beginning to eat.  
This, Optimus was used to. Megatron never had been a morning person, and becoming human didn't change that.

"When d'you start?"  
"Tomorrow."

Megatron made a noise of understanding as he chewed, making Optimus sigh. Civilizing the man was taking a lot of effort, and Optimus often wondered if his attempts were having an effect at all.

Optimus took his newly-microwaved dinner and sat across the table from Megatron, who had a far-off look in his eyes.

"What're you plotting now?" Optimus asked lightly.

"World takeover, what else?" Megatron snarked back.

"From the bottom, huh?"

"Hey, what better place? Cut the foundation, everything collapses, I present myself as the ideal candidate for everything to be brought back to order again."

"You seem to be getting awful attached to being a human."

Megatron sighed. "There's the crux of the problem."

"Oh?"

"It's _so much fun_ to manipulate these squishies from being among them. It's..._satisfying_ to see them squirm when you've hung them out to dry just by turning words twisting own words right way. Can't do that when you're Cybertronian. At the same time, there _are_ some that would benefit from simply being crushed physically. Too bad murder is a crime."

"It is most places," Optimus drawled.

"Yeah, well, the human authorities can't charge a giant alien robot for murder, can they? But they _can_ try one of their own."

"Rules suck, don't they?"  
"Don't get me started, Prime."

Optimus coughed and shook his head.

"Your hair isn't red anymore."

"I bought hair-dye. Apparently it works. We'll see for how long, though." Optimus paused. "I bought enough for you, too, y'know."

"What's wrong with my hair?" Megatron asked, apparently offended.

"Megatron, how many humans are there with silver hair like yours? If you ever get caught, it'd be much easier to ID you with your current hair color."

"Aw, I didn't know you _cared_."

"You die I die. It's self-preservation."

"Mm," Megatron murmured and finished his dinner-breakfast quickly. He stood and dumped the trash in their trash can and the utensils went in the sink before he walked away, probably to prepare for his night's activities.

Optimus' shoulders fell slightly and he finished his own dinner at a more sedate pace.

He was loading the dishwasher when Megatron left for whatever he did with his nights, and sighed once the man was gone. He was a constant source of stress, but what could Optimus do? It was his life now.

After careful examination of the buttons on the dishwasher, he managed to correctly start it. He paused and looked around the rest of the kitchen, eyes narrowing slightly.

'Might as well figure out how the rest of this stuff works.'

He was up far too late figuring out common household appliances, nearly blowing up the kitchen once, but had _far_ too much fun in figuring everything out.

'I must learn how to cook—_legitimately _cook.'

A jaw-cracking yawn made him look at the time and sigh.

'Bed-time. Don't want to be completely out of it tomorrow.'

He walked to his bedroom, changed into his pajamas, figured out how to work the alarm clock, and was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

–

_Will you _stay still?

_Be more gentle, then, damnit!_

_The more you struggle, the more it hurts!_

_You're just inept._

_I dare you to do any better._

_I _totally_ could._

_Could not._

_Could too._

_Could not._

_I definitely could._

_No, you definitely couldn't. Now shut up._

Megatron scowled at Optimus as the former Autobot leader cleaned and bandaged one of the many wounds the Decepticon had managed to obtain.

_How did this happen again?_

_I'm not telling you._

_It's obviously in your line of "work",_ Optimus continued, ignoring the Decepticon. _Let's see...people not appreciating you encroaching on their territory? Probably. You power-hungry types never appreciate it when someone tries to take a bit of your power._

Megatron huffed in annoyance before wincing as Optimus pulled out a particularly large shard of glass. _And you got this past the doorman _how?

_Waited till he dozed off, _Megatron replied tightly as Optimus wiggled another shard out of his skin.

_Mm-hm,_ Optimus murmured.

_Do you still have some hair dye left?_

_A great deal._

_I'm gonna use some._

_Ah. I see. Then I suggest brown or black—it would be the most different from how you appear now._

_...I...got us color contacts, _Megatron reluctantly admitted.

Optimus' eyebrows raised slowly. _I'm glad you finally recognized the importance of being able to blend in._

_Shut it, Prime._

Optimus simply smiled faintly before standing, having bandaged all of Megatron's wounds. Now all that was left...

With an effort and a choked sound from Megatron, Optimus popped the Decepticon's shoulder back into its socket.

_That __**sucked**_, Megatron growled and Optimus mockingly gently, mockingly patted his head.

_Be smarter, then. You can do it—I know. You just...never choose to._

Megatron harrumphed as Optimus washed his hands. _Stop gloating._

_I'm not gloating._

_Coulda fooled me._

Optimus snorted and shook his head. _You knew what you were getting yourself into when you chose to run with people in low places. How'd you get hurt this badly _anyway?_ You're better than this._

_Was, _Megatron corrected sullenly.

Optimus' eyebrows rose slowly. _Ah. I see._

_You haven't had to fight, so you don't know just how badly uncoordinated we still are._

_You mean—_

_Don't tell me that you've been practicing in your spare time, _Megatron warned.

Optimus shrugged. _I've been doing strengthening and flexibility exercises. I don't know if that counts as _practicing.

_More than I've done, _Megatron grumbled.

_You have a proclivity for it, though, so I'm guessing that you were fairly effective even though you lacked technique._

_You could say that..._

Optimus shook his head in exasperation. _Megatron..._

Megatron sighed and tested his arm. _How's _your_ work going?_

_Well enough, _Optimus replied, dumping the pale pink paper towel in the trashcan.

_Still can't believe that the great Optimus Prime is reduced to working as a mechanic._

Optimus shrugged. _It...gives me a different perspective._

Megatron snorted. _I bet._

_At least it's in a realm I know a_ little_. I mean, I can't do anything close to what Ratchet can, but automotive vehicles are a great deal less complicated than Cybertronians. _Optimus turned on his hot water heater and leaned against a kitchen counter, fixing his gaze on Megatron. _Am I myself in danger of being attacked by thugs who connect me to you?_

_Hopefully not. Aside from living together...there's really nothing else to imply that we're anything besides roommates. Especially because of our drastically different schedules._

Optimus took out his tea bags and placed two in a large mug along with a packet of sugar and some skim milk as he waited for the water to boil. _I don't know about that. Building gossip is that we're lovers._

Megatron chuckled and shook his head. _We may be bonded to each other as such, but we are far, far from that in reality._

_True—who'd want to sleep with _you_?_

_You'd be surprised—_

_Don't. Say. Anything. Else. I prefer to keep from needing to invent brain bleach. _

Megatron snickered and leaned back in the chair, wincing slightly. _I saw you bought a few CDs,_ the Decepticon commented casually, although there was subtle derision in his tone.

Optimus flinched and sighed, pouring the hot water into his cup. Through what he caught on the radio, he had discovered that he like classical and jazz (which Megatron derided him for), but also had an embarrassing love for bubblegum pop. A list of his favorite composers/artists was just as likely to contain Beethoven as Britney Spears (which was _another_ thing that Megatron laughed at him for).

_It's no worse than your trashy romance book collection. And just as cheap._

_Still..._

I'm_ not the one reading _fanfiction_._

_Hey! You can only read corset-busters so many times before your brain turns to mush. _

_How do you manage to sift through all the chaff that exists on the internet?_

_With great difficulty. There are a few authors I follow, though, and upon going through their favorites, tend to find other stories that are worth reading._

Optimus shook his head slowly and took a sip of his tea carefully—it was still unbelievably hot. _Still, I'm surprised it took this long for others to try and 'teach you a lesson'._

Megatron laughed softly before wincing, a hand going to his side. _No-one had the balls to do it until they had a group. And anyway, you should see the _other _guys,_ Megatron finished smugly.

Optimus rolled his eyes and stuffed a pop tart in the toaster, pushing down the lever so it began toasting.

_What had you so embarrassed yesterday?_ Megatron asked blithely.

"Hm?" Optimus vocalized and looked over to Megatron. _What do you mean?_

_It nearly woke me up, the surge of embarrassment was so strong._

Optimus tilted his head to the side and thought before his shoulders tensed and a small, sheepish smile formed on his face. _It was just my ignorance of accepted social norms and general American culture. I don't...know some things that I should._

_Like?_

Optimus sighed and ran his hand over his hair. _I have no interest in the opposite sex. I can't follow some of the expectations that those of our sex have for the ideal femme._

_Big boobs and ass? All curves and no brains, right?_

_...for the most part, yes. How...nevermind. The crowd you run with._

_You make them sound like a disease._

_Aren't they?_

_Perhaps we're the cure for what ails the world, and everyone just has to recognize it?_

_You're delusional._

_So you say. It was more than that, though._

Optimus sighed. _I'll tell you my mistakes once you tell me yours._

The silence was almost _sulky._

"Well, then," Optimus said aloud, taking his pop tart from the toaster, handling it carefully so as to not burn himself. He looked at the clock and sighed. _I hate how your schedule wakes me up at ungodly hours. I'm going to be exhausted for the rest of the day._

_Deal with it._

_Shut up._

Optimus ate his breakfast before going through his morning ritual to get ready for the day. At some point, Megatron disappeared into his room, leaving Optimus alone.

Once dressed, he left, closing and locking the door behind him. It had been a three months since they had moved into their apartment, which meant that they had been humans for...

'4-and-a-half, 5 months, I think,' Optimus thought with some chagrin. He _still_ despaired of ever passing as a born-human, since he had gained a reputation for being slightly..._odd_...amongst the people he worked. It was also no secret that he wasn't documented, but no-one called him or his employer on it—Optimus could be paid _much_ lower and forced to work longer hours than a documented worker, and as he was cheap for the management and made the other workers' lives easier, no-one saw any downside to the situation.

Neither did Optimus, either—it was a way for him to _learn_ about how humans (well, one demographic) behave. It made _some_ money, and got him away from Megatron.

He got on the subway near their shared apartment, and took it to the stop nearest his place of work.

He was always the first there and the last to leave, since that was the only way to get the same kind of pay that the other employees did.

As Optimus set himself up, the parade of little, embarrassing events that he had experienced since he had first found employment paraded in front of him.

Not understanding particular turns of phrase ('stupid similes...').

Ignorance of past and present popular culture.

Actions out of line with his new species.

Actions out of line with his new _race_ or _gender_ or _age_...

The _hardest_ thing to get used to was human body language. He had gotten a grasp of vocal inflection easily and quickly—it wasn't entirely different from Cybertronian inflections. But, body language...well, he was _still_ figuring it out. Cybertronian body language and human body language were two very different things. He knew he exhibited body language unconsciously, if just because he was used to using his body to express emotion, and was only now getting used to his face being the primary vehicle for emotional expression (now _that_ had been puzzling to figure out, but he had figured it out without _too _much difficulty).

Optimus sighed silently.

'Little things that _constantly_ reveal that I'm not entirely human...but most people seem to discard it fairly quickly. It's almost as if...there is a _reason_ why non-natives are called aliens.'

There was so much to _do_ to be able to be considered a US Citizen, and he knew he'd have to end up bypassing a _lot_ of it. He and Megatron didn't have the leisure to be living in the US for 5 years...as _humans_...which was the minimum required time before they were eligible to apply for citizenship. Technically, Megatron had been on Earth for a _long_ time, but had only been human for...well, nowhere near 5 years.

There were _other_ things they had to worry about, too, little things that would make their human origins more plausible. So many pieces of paper that carried surprising amounts of weight.

'Well, just start _somewhere_ and things will slowly fall into place.'

Which meant that he got to keep the Decepticon up in quiet revenge for waking him up.

_Hey, Megatron._

_What?_ Came the irritated reply.

_When do you want your birthday?_

_What?_

_Your birthday. When do you want it?_

_Why is that important?_

_It's needed to fill out paperwork and is a generally good idea in order to blend in. People like to talk about their birthdays and it tends to be a cause for celebration._

_How old do you want to claim us?_

_Erm...late twenties?_

Optimus felt Megatron sigh over their connection. _We don't really look it..._

_I don't have any gray in my hair! And neither of us have wrinkles. There's nothing about our bodies that say that we are any older than we claim to be._

_Yeah, yeah, sure, sure. 27? _

_...29?_

_Fine. I don't care. So...we just adjust the Terran year to fit that._

_Okay, but then we need actual _dates.

_Dates? Bah. When's a depressing day for this country?_

_Right now? 9/11. Or you could do 12/7..._

_9/11? Why would that be...ah. Right. That Twin Towers thingy._

_The act of terrorism which killed hundreds of civilians._

There was a brief spike of severe disapproval. _What's the other one?_

_The day of the bombing of Pearl Harbor._

_Which resulted in only military casualties?_

_For the most part, yes._

_Then that'll be it. I will not have my supposed date of birth commemorate the deaths of _civilians.

Optimus blinked, then smiled wryly. _If you care for civilians so much, why did you start the war?_

_In case you didn't _notice_, I kept there from being three factions by letting all those who wished no part in the war run to the far reaches of the universe. After _those_ had left, there were no more civilians. I took my duty as _protector_ very seriously._

_Then, why care about the deaths of hundreds of _human_ civilians?_

Megatron's voice became wry, tight, and bitter: _Because I am, for all intents and purposes, human now, and my ingrained _need_ to _protect_ has transferred to these _creatures._ Now, is there anything else you want?_

_We need to make nuclear family histories._

_Then I'll keep it simple—just me, a father, and a mother. _Megatron paused. _Those _are_ the words for a human male and female caretaker, right?_

_Yes, you got it right. I'll make my situation the same, just to avoid confusion and minimize the chance of being caught in our lies._

_At least you're willing to acknowledge that you're lying,_ Megatron commented dryly.

_Quiet, you, or I will be the one to make up your family's names._

_Ooh, scary Prime, _Megatron drawled. _John and Anne. Two generic, stupid names. It works._

_John and Anne Tron, huh? _Optimus murmured, faintly amused. _Very well. Chris and Mary for me._

Optimus got the distinct feeling of Megatron rolling his eyes. _Whatever. Are you done bothering me yet?_

_Nope, _Optimus answered cheerfully. _You have friends in low places._ _I'm going to need you to have some documents..._made_...for us. They have to stand up the rigors of Federal scrutiny countless times, so they have to be as authentic as possible._

_Uh-huh. Just what kind of documents are we talking about?_

_Birth certificates, social security cards, passports...there's a whole _slew_ of things. Then we also need to create complex false histories for ourselves—including _medical_ histories—figure out how and when our 'family' died so if anyone goes looking for them, they find death certificates and stop looking. We need at least a _high school_ diploma..._

_Unicron, Prime. That's a lot of stuff. It's going to cost a _lot_ of money, and more than a few threats and favors. Is all that really _necessary?

_Yes, unfortunately. And there'll probably be more we have to make as time goes along. _

Optimus felt Megatron scowl. _It will take time._

_We've survived this long—what are a few more weeks?_

_Maybe months. Damnit. This better be worth it, Prime._

With that comment, Megatron broke off the conversation, leaving Optimus smirking faintly as he finished setting himself up, looking at the newest piece of work for him. He always got the worst ones, if only because he was the best at bringing clunkers back to life. Having _been_ a mechanical organism for the majority of his life _probably_ helped.

Optimus turned on the radio to his favorite music station (not the classical music station—he couldn't concentrate with it on) before setting to work.

It had come to light slowly that his and Megatron's tastes still diverged wildly from each other in innumerable little ways:

Megatron loved football—Optimus couldn't stand it, but truly enjoyed baseball, which Megatron found slow and boring.

Megatron, once coming upon it, had a fondness and appreciation for modern art that Optimus couldn't begin to fathom. Oh, he could see the beauty in works of art, but he personally felt he was...disinclined towards it. He couldn't draw to save his life, while Megatron had the beginnings of an artist in him.

The opposite was true for music, however; Optimus took great pleasure in listening to music, and had even begun learning how to read and write sheet music, while Megatron was easily bored by it, even if it was the kind that he preferred (which wasn't so much _music_ as _screaming_).

They both enjoyed reading, but Optimus liked science-fiction/fantasy and poetry while Megatron had his own strange taste.

Optimus had slowly acquired a Manhattanite accent while Megatron had become partial to the Brooklyn one.

There were aspects to humanity that continued to puzzled and fascinate the former Autobot leader. Religion intrigued Optimus because it was one way that humans sought to take meaning from what could possibly be a meaningless existence. It was made all the more startling because no-one had any solid _proof_ that a higher power or creator existed. Optimus, at least, knew that Primus _had_ existed, that he was indeed the work of divine (or semi-divine) hands.

There were as many religions as people, and then there were facets within each religion which followed subtly different dogma. None of them made any _logical_ sense—but Optimus was intrigued anyway. All the varying ideas of afterlives—from hopelessly complex to none at all—were also interesting. Optimus had never turned his mind to what possibly laid beyond his death (he had always been concerned with more immediate matters), and now that he had actually _experienced_ it, he couldn't remember anything. Megatron had never brought up his own death experience, so Optimus had never asked.

He discovered that religion—or lack thereof—influenced every aspect of human life, so Optimus decided that it'd _probably_ be a good idea to choose a religion for himself.

It had taken a _lot_ of thought and more than a few hours of research, and Optimus was _still_ undecided. Perhaps it would be best if he chose to be 'spiritual' rather than 'religious'. It could quite possible save him a ton of grief.

Doing the research had also led him upon more than a few culturally significant holidays and superstitions (triskaidekaphobia derived from Christianity and a few other religions, 'knocking-on-wood' was from ancient Druidic tradition, Christmas was celebrated differently [if at all] in various places around the world, etc.). Optimus had known that the human race was complicated and diverse, but now that he had to figure out how to live in it he came to appreciate just how complicated it _really was._

Optimus dragged himself out of his musings in order to concentrate on the task at hand. He still had to work at manipulating the world around him, as he was sure he would never get entirely used to being in his human skin. Using human hands was so _different_ from his Cybertronian ones. Sure, they _looked_ the same, but only medics had the kind of dexterity human hands did. There...usually just wasn't a need.

He was whistling along with _Bad Romance_ when his boss walked in and lightly kicked his foot, which was sticking out from beneath the car he was working on.

Optimus pushed himself out from under it and sat up. "Yeah?" he asked as his boss looked over his work critically.

"How _do_ y'do it?" he muttered.

Optimus gave him a lop-sided smile. "Is there something you want?"

"Finish this one first. Got another project for you, though."

Optimus sighed. _Project_ meant "really, really, _really_ bad-off." "Mm," Optimus grunted. "Let me see it," he said as he stood.

He followed his boss to where the car was sitting. His eyebrows shot up when he set eyes on it.

"Project indeed," Optimus murmured. "It's such a nice model...wonder what happened to it?"

"I dunno. It just kinda rolled up here on its own before settling on its shocks and turning off."

"You make it sound sentient," Optimus murmured as he walked over to the car, running his hands over it. The make was _familiar_.

"That's why we're given' it to you. M'not gonna pay you for it, but I figured you'd find it instresin'."

Optimus frowned, but the symbol where the make should have been made his breath catch.

'It's an Autobot!' Optimus inwardly exclaimed.

Slowly, everything clicked into place and he only barely suppressed a groan.

'Sunstreaker,' he sighed. 'How the _hell_ did you get _here_?'

"I'll take it. How often will I get to work on this kind of car?"

"Thought you'd say that. It'll be here for you when you don't have any other car to take care of."

Optimus nodded and gently patted the hood.

"Alright. Back to work."

"Back to work," Optimus sighed and went back to where he had been on the previous car.

'I'm glad they gave me him. No-one else would've known how to take the subtle differences from a normal car. Still...it sucks that I'm not getting paid to fix him. And it's not as if I'll be able to do a lot...'

Optimus shoved the Autobot out of his mind as he focused on fixing the normal car he had been assigned.

The day passed at a crawl, but eventually Optimus was able to start the car without the engine making sad, dying sounds. The body was still in bad shape, but the car would _run_ now.

The sound drew people to look in, before leaving again, shaking their heads. Optimus turned the car off and sighed softly.

He had a little time before his day ended, so he might as well find out what was wrong with Sunstreaker.

He walked over to the Autobot and ran his hands lightly along the body of the car Sunstreaker had chosen, wincing. There were some pretty bad dents, and a number of deep gouges—probably from a fight with a Decepticon. The prankster's trunk was scrunched in and his front fender was hanging on by a thread.

'Wonder who he tangled with to beat him up so badly,' Optimus wondered before he opened a door gingerly. The screech it made when opening made Optimus flinch. The inside of the cab was in no better shape than the outside.

He closed the door before opening the hood.

At least _that_ seemed to be doing fine. There was a lot of surface damage, but it seemed as if the core of Sunstreaker's body was fine. From the dripping sound and the bright blue-white liquid he saw pooling beneath the Autobot, though, there was probably a few broken or twisted or fractured energon lines.

"I'm no Ratchet. Why'd you come _here_?" he murmured softly before closing the hood. "Well, no time to waste."

He had to be careful about getting energon on himself, as he discovered through experience that it burned his skin like acid, making him swear colorfully and the others look at him in curiosity. He worked on Sunstreaker until closing, upon which he put away all his tools, grumbling darkly.

There was more damage than he had initially thought.

He left with polite goodbyes before becoming lost in his thoughts.

'What could have caused Sunstreaker to come _here_ instead of find Ratchet or the other Autobots? Perhaps his communicator is down? That would make sense. Have someone else work on him until his own systems could take over and contact Ratchet...?'

He mused until he came back to the apartment, ignoring the dirty look he got from his neighbor with good grace.

The apartment was still when he entered, which meant that Megatron was probably still asleep.

Optimus ditched his dirty clothes and took a shower, which he _still_ delighted in. The feel of the water sluicing across his body was a unique sensation.

'Perhaps I should learn how to swim,' he thought idly. 'That would be interesting.'

He left the bathroom clothed in an undershirt and pajama bottoms, heading to make himself dinner.

It was the smell of food that drew Megatron out of his bedroom.

"What're you making?" Megatron asked as Optimus read the instructions off of a recipe.

"Orange Chicken."

"That sounds weird."

"It sounds _good_. No-one said you have to eat it."

"But I don't feel like cereal," Megatron pouted. "And you made enough for two."

"Force of habit," Optimus replied as he added spices to the stir-fried chicken.

"One for which I am grateful," Megatron said as he sat down at the kitchen table, watching Optimus.

"Don't you have someplace to be?" Optimus said crossly.

Megatron shrugged. "I make my own hours."

"Which is code for, 'I'm still recovering from getting beat up'," Optimus said dryly.

"Shut it," Megatron growled.

Silence fell as Optimus tossed in vegetables, finishing making his meal.

"Hey, Optimus."

'Uh-oh,' Optimus thought, tensing. He turned once he had put some chicken on the rice he had steamed, looking at Megatron evenly. "What?" he asked flatly, hoping to diffuse whatever plan Megatron had. Afterall, Megatron was regarding him with a look that _always_ meant trouble.

Megatron stood and walked over to Optimus, the smallest of smirks on his face. "Prime, Prime, Prime," he murmured when he stopped in front of Optimus. "Why so wary?"

"You've got that particular look that says what your plotting will mean _bad things_ for my sanity."

Megatron chuckled. "So little faith in me."

"I don't have _any_ faith in your 'good intentions'," Optimus drawled. "Now, I'm _starving_, so if you—"

Optimus was cut off as Megatron's lips were pressed firmly against his own.

Optimus gasped slightly in surprise which, coincidentally, positioned his lips so that there was an even greater degree of contact. Megatron made a stifled sound, one that sent a shiver through Optimus' body.

Optimus _hated_ that being kissed by _Megatron_ felt so damn _good_. It sent lazy tendrils of pleasure curling through him, made the tight, angry knot in his chest that was their mockery of a Bond sing, and made focusing on anything other than the blissful sensation incredibly difficult.

Still...this was _Megatron_, and Optimus was tired and hungry and angry at himself for actually _enjoying_ being kissed by the pain-in-the-ass.

It made the pain he endured from Megatron landing awkwardly on the floor after having his feet swept out from under him less noisome.

Optimus glared at the Decepticon who was regaining his wind and said a venomous tone he hadn't thought he possessed, "I think I now have a new reason to hate you."

Megatron salvaged his dignity by smirking, his eyes glowing a soft blood-red. "Trust me Prime, the feeling is mutual."

"Then why did you do it?" Optimus snarled, his body _aching_ for a return of the contact.

"Because I wanted to know why it hurt whenever someone with amorous intent touched me."

Optimus snorted and shook his head, taking his dinner over to the kitchen table, getting utensils from the drawers with perhaps a little more force than necessary.

The one good thing was that the Bond that had been such a painful itch within him had been assuaged slightly. Their differing schedules and distances from each other had strained the connection, making it a constant pain, like a chronic back-ache. That brief intimacy had done much to repair the damage done by eons of mutual hatred.

It still didn't make Optimus even _like_ the Primus-damned piece of Decepticon trash.

After finishing his dinner, Optimus sat down on the couch, planning to watch some TV before falling asleep.

However, the falling asleep occurred very quickly into the watching TV, Optimus exhausted from the day's work and emotional rollercoaster.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author: **So. Hi. I know, I know, it's been a long time, but there was this thing called WoW. And grad school. That thought that my time and inspiration was tasty. But I return! And know what I want to do with the story! So updates will still be sporadic, but at least they'll be coherent! :D And btw, Dark of the Moon? Never happened. The comic books? Also ignoring those. ANYWAY.

**Disclaimer**: I own a RoTF Soundwave toy.

**Chapter 5**

"Hello again," Optimus murmured as he ran a hand along the hood of the Sunstreaker's chosen alt form. "Let's see what we can do for you today, hm?"

Optimus whistled tunelessly as he gathered his tools, strangely content.

It had been nearly a fortnight since Sunstreaker had rolled up to the shop, and Optimus had found that his days had fallen into an oddly comfortable routine. After eons of being constantly on-edge and responsible for the continuation and safety of an entire planet, it was an acute relief to be lost. He woke as Megatron showered, made himself breakfast, took his own shower, dressed, packed his lunch, then left for work. He was usually the first one to arrive at the shop, and so the one to open (although the mornings were slow, since very few people decided to brave New York rush-hour traffic).

While things were still quiet, Optimus worked on Sunstreaker. Sunstreaker was a _project_ and pushed to the limit what mechanical skills Optimus possessed. He knew field-medicine, and so was able to patch up the energon leaks and other potentially fatal wounds, but he wasn't a medic—he couldn't heal the more grievous injuries.

So, he was relieved to discover that Sunstreaker's immune system was beginning to aid in the healing process. It made his life significantly easier.

He was examining the Autobot when he felt an odd tickling at the back of his mind. It was different from when Megatron was attempting to contact him with a barrier in place, but it was nonetheless…familiar. Optimus shook his head, trying to clear the feeling and, after a moment, it faded, leaving him both puzzled and relieved.

"How the _hell_ did this happen to you?" he quietly groused to Sunstreaker as he changed tools.

He felt the white noise again in his skull, but ignored it. He had such a ringing happen in his ears occasionally, although he had no idea why—probably a peculiarity of his physiology.

He saw something sticking out from within Sunstreaker's wiring and gently pried it out. He turned it over in his hand once he had removed it and whistled quietly. "I'm _astonished_ that you're still running," Optimus murmured and chucked the shard of Decepticon weaponry away.

"Hey, you."

Optimus slid out from beneath Sunstreaker at his boss' voice. Optimus pushed himself to his feet, wiped his hands and face as clean as possible, and, once he considered himself clean enough, asked, "Yeah, boss?"

The man jerked a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to the person behind him. "The missy wants a look at your project."

Optimus gave him an incredulous look before turning his gaze to the potential buyer.

And was surprised to see Mikaela.

She subtly rolled her eyes, obviously interpreting Optimus' reaction as the typical male reaction to her physical appearance.

Optimus cleared his throat and gestured to the car behind him. "There is still a lot of work to be done, but it looks much better then when I got it."

Optimus stepped aside so Mikaela could examine it, and he saw the brief hitch as her fingers ran over the Autobot symbol.

Optimus watched her go over Sunstreaker thoroughly, and he could read from her body language that she was impressed.

She slowed to a stop, then turned and faced him, face serious. "Name your price."

Optimus' eyebrows snapped up. "Pardon?"

"Name your price," Mikaela repeated.

Optimus paused, then said slowly, "Miss, as you can see, this ain't your normal car. You're going to be paying for parts, labor, injury, and legality."

The energon leaks that had caused a multitude of burns on his arm had _hurt_.

Mikaela nodded slowly and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I understand."

_How much would a corvette normally cost?_

_What? _Megatron asked sleepily.

_Nothing, _Optimus replied, surprised that he hadn't been able to keep the thought to himself. After a moment's consideration, Optimus crossed his arms and said, "40,000."

Mikaela's eyebrows shot up, but she eventually sighed. "I did say _name _the price…"

As she handed him a check made out to cash, she asked: "Why?"

"Why so much?" Optimus filled in and sighed. "Miss, I have no idea what that car actually is—it's more than just foreign make," he said quietly so that only she could hear. "I haven't seen _anything_ like it on Earth. I haven't replaced many parts because there _are_ no parts that truly fit it. Anyone else would've scrapped it."

Mikaela made a sound of acknowledgement. "True. Thank you for _not_ doing so. This car is…"

She hesitated and Optimus shrugged.

"Whatever you want it for, I don't want to know. Thank you for the check and I wish you the best in whatever you plan to do with that car."

Mikaela gave him a careful smile. "Thanks." She paused, then asked, "What's your name?"

"Orion. Yours?"

"Mikaela."

"It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mikaela."

The girl gave him a small smile before she walked over to an almost-familiar tow-truck. She spoke to the driver—_was_ there a driver?—before the truck backed up and hitched Sunstreaker onto it.

Optimus watched them drive away and sighed. It had been nice to see Mikaela again, but it had also made an unfamiliar kind of…resentment?…rattle through him.

Once he had shaken himself from a brief gloom, he turned and saw the other employees gaping at him, which made him give them a nervous grin. "Please don't jump me."

After a moment's pause, the small group dispersed, whispers in various languages reaching his ears, which made Optimus scratch the back of his neck.

"Why did you charge so much? I would've thought you'd've given it for free," his boss said, seemingly impressed.

Optimus sighed. "Truthfully, I wanted to."

"Then why didn't you?"

"Because I need the money," Optimus said flatly as he found a stool to sit on. "And I'm not stupid. That car had something to do with the government—maybe even that stuff that went down months ago about that kid."

His boss snorted, "Aliens."

Optimus smiled wryly. "Then it had something to do with the government. Any way, whatever it used as fuel or oil _hurt_."

_Face it, Prime—you have a little Decepticon in you,_ Megatron said, voice smug regardless of the sleep that coated it.

_Shut up,_ Optimus sighed.

"And now you don't have to work for me anymore," his boss pointed out sullenly.

Optimus chuckled. "40,000 will last for less time than you would think."

His boss grunted in acknowledgement as Optimus pocketed the check and said, "Be back in five."

_Smart move._

Optimus sighed inwardly as he kept his head down and pulled the typical New York Bubble around him. _Megs, I was the leader of an entire race._

_I'm surprised we lasted so long._

Optimus subtly rolled his eyes as he walked into the bank they had chosen. It took no time to deposit the amount in their joint checking account (it was simply easier that way, although Optimus shuddered to think of the unspoken connotations of what such a gesture may mean) and he was headed back to his job in short order.

_You know he's right. You can find better employment somewhere else now, probably._

_As what?_ Optimus replied dryly. _We're still not registered, so I have to continue to find work in jobs where people don't really _bother_ to check the citizenship of their employees._

_Point._

_Go back to sleep, Megs._

_Don't order me around,_ Megatron snapped, but Optimus could feel his thoughts grow muted with sleep.

Once he had made his way back to the shop, Optimus raised an eyebrow at the newest car that was parked in what he considered to be 'his' space.

The car was almost completely totaled. There was nothing really salvageable.

"Really?" he asked his boss, giving him an incredulous look.

"Wanna see if you're really worth 40,000."

"Your wage if you want me to fix this one," Optimus replied.

There was a long silence before his boss replied, "No."

"There's next to nothing I can work with," Optimus stated. "This one's destined for the junkyard. Or charity. That kind of thing."

There was a loud sigh. "You're _sure_?"

"Someone's calling in a favor, huh?" Optimus mused.

He could almost _feel_ his boss shudder.

Optimus hummed before he asked, "You still got the ones that the owners abandoned to you?"

"Yeah," his boss answered slowly.

"I'll be using bits and pieces from all of those. You're still gonna pay me at least _legal_ minimum wage. It's more a project than the last."

There was a loud sigh. "Fine, fine."

Optimus smiled faintly. "Give me a week."

"Three days."

"You're serious."

"Dead serious."

Optimus rubbed his temples, a steady stream of sigh escaping him. "What you pay your assistant."

"Orion—"

"Can anyone else here fix this?"

The lack of answer spoke for itself.

"I'll see what I can do," his boss finally conceded.

Optimus looked at the wreck and grimaced. Three days to basically build an entire car.

He shook his head and went to the unclaimed cars, standing before them as he thought.

'Start with the insides first.'

Optimus wasn't sure what made him take a little pleasure in ripping apart different cars to repair only _one_ other, but he figured it had something to do with the tiny knot of _something_ that sat at his core.

He had been _right there._ He had stood before Mikaela, the girl who had been one of his first contacts, and she hadn't even looked at him twice, except for the price he had demanded.

'Surely there had been some transparency?' he thought in quiet despair. 'I'm not _that_ passable a human.'

Optimus stayed until everyone else had left and he put his tools away carefully before he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, teeth clenched.

'What _is_ this?' he wondered as he tremored.

It was an alien emotion, one that gnawed at his insides in its intensity. It wasn't anything simple, and it was too potent to name from his previous experience.

He had felt grief at Jazz's death, rock-solid determination to save his people, desperation at the inevitability of his own death, anger, betrayal, happiness, but they were all muted things, tempered by his need to be completely in control for the sake of those who relied on him.

But he was human now, and the chemicals that were an intrinsic part of his being made being objective a much harder task, if not an impossible one.

He found his breathing was ragged as he struggled against himself.

'Am I that forgettable?' he wondered, eventually putting some framework around what the emotion was. 'After eons of leadership, of sacrifice and responsibility, how can I be so easily tossed aside? Surely there's _something_ that would make them wonder…'

Optimus' breath hitched and he sat down hard on a chair. "Primus, who _am_ I?" he whispered to the empty shop.

His shaking slowly subsided and his shoulders slumped. "Who is Optimus Prime?"

'Does nothing of me linger? This body is nothing but a shell, a container for who I _am_…isn't it?'

He looked at his hands—his rough, callused, fleshy, carbon-based hands—and felt a sudden swell of disgust and displacement.

He was a stranger, a pretender. He wasn't human. He could remember stars being born and dying, he could remember traveling through the infinite reaches of space. He could remember holding a pure source of _Life_ in his hands, watched in wonder as an empty, lovingly-crafted protoform was brought to consciousness, Light shining through its eyes and chest, pulled into the physical world from potential. He had searched _worlds_. He had seen thousands of different ways of living, being. He had experienced more than the sum of every person on Earth who had ever lived. He was around when they were still struggling for words and would be here long after their sun died—if all went well and he wasn't murdered or killed in battle before then.

Who was he, to walk among them as one of their own? It was one thing to pretend he was something else, not part of their species but part of their culture, but to attempt to _mimic_ them enough to _be_ one…

It was laughable and demeaning.

He slowly stood and threw a wrench at a discrete corner and laughed quietly, bitterly, at how it embedded itself in the stone.

'Stronger, smarter, faster, hardier—how is it so easily overlooked?' he thought bitterly. 'What have I been _doing_?'

He clenched his hands into tight fists as he struggled to compose himself. Whatever had caught him was unworthy of him, unworthy of a Prime. He wanted to survive—that was the drive of _all_ living creatures. How he chose to go about it was irrelevant.

He gathered his belongings, walking in a semi-haze of bitterness, depression, and self-loathing, but by the time he was boarding the subway, he had brought all his ragged emotions back to heel, and had found the center that had always been at the core of his identity.

'There's no reason to think they _would_ identify me, so might as well let it go,' he thought as he jostled against a fellow rider—a young, pregnant woman, whose hand rested lovingly on the bump under which held humanity's future.

Optimus looked quickly away, a pang of failure flashing through him that he pushed away.

'My decision brought about the end of my race…unless what is hinted from the signals we've begun to get from Sam are true.'

Optimus rubbed his eyes and sighed quietly. 'All I have is today. Surely I learned that from my death. I will not waste another breath—no matter what body I am in.'

Optimus got off at his stop and felt a familiar sense of purpose and peace descend upon him. He would serve the world the best he could with the life and tools left to him—it was his duty as a Prime. It wasn't worth moping.

"You're back late," Megatron commented as Optimus opened the door to their shared apartment and hung his coat on the rack near the door.

Optimus grimaced and rubbed his sore back as he shucked his shoes off. "Don't remind me."

Megatron actually looked _amused_, which made Optimus give him a tired glare.

Optimus trailed clothes to the towel cabinet, taking out a towel he had unofficially claimed as his. As he entered the bathroom, he caught Megatron picking up his garments with quiet grumbles, which made Optimus' eyes widen slightly in surprise. He closed the door behind him and looked at the mirror quizzically.

'Why would he do _that_?' Optimus wondered, draping his towel on the towel rack, his underwear being thrown into a corner for later deposit in the laundry basket.

He turned the water on for a shower, waiting for it to get warm, checking the temperature with his hand every now and then.

It was still so strange to experience heat in the manner the human body did. When he had been in his Cybertronian form, he had _registered_ temperature, but he had never felt it acutely. Certainly not with the same sensitivity as his new human body did.

In many ways, he was still a stranger in his own skin.

As he always would be.

Once it reached the temperature he preferred he stepped in, allowing the water to cascade down his toned body.

Optimus sighed and ran a hand over his face in mental and physical exhaustion. 'How'd Sunstreaker find me?' he mused in chagrined despair. 'Did he know who I am? Or was it blind luck?'

"Don't use all the hot water for the month, Prime!" Megatron yelled through the door.

Optimus sighed and washed himself, every movement feeling like his limbs were weighed down with lead before he turned off the water and stepped out. He dried himself thoroughly before wrapping the towel around his waist and leaving the bathroom for his room.

"Prime."

Optimus stopped with his hand on the doorknob to his room and sighed softly before pushing the door open. "What?" he asked flatly and turned to face the Decepticon. He was _tired_ and wanted nothing more than to change into his pajamas and pass out—the thought of food was too much effort. His boss wasn't making his life easy—regular repairs as well as the hunk of junk he had been assigned—and he was still dealing with the intensity of human emotions.

"Two months."

Optimus frowned slightly, "For what?"

"That's how long it will take to procure all the documentation that we need."

"That's not...too bad."

"But I have to wonder Prime," Megatron murmured, giving Optimus a look he Autobot leader couldn't read, "why you haven't contacted anyone. Surely someone would believe you. You're persuasive enough and people almost _worship_ you."

Optimus was silent for a moment before saying, "I've considered it. But...Megatron, what is it that makes a person who they are—is the Self in the Body, the Mind, or the Soul? Or some combination of those?" Optimus shook his head sadly. "My body is no longer what it was—my body is _human_ now, not a Cybertronian," he said, bitterness creeping into his voice that he viciously discarded. "My soul is half-_yours_, so I can't claim continuity of soul in this case. Only my memories define who I am, can claim me as being Optimus Prime...and some of them are becoming alarmingly fuzzy."

"You're thinking too hard," Megatron said dryly, although there was a tinge of uncertainty and intrigue to his voice.

"_H__ow_ would I contact them, anyway? _Who_ would I contact? Sam? Captain Lennox? One of the Autobots? And then..." Optimus sighed, his bed calling to him. "How would I explain _you?"_

Megatron frowned and leaned against the wall opposite Optimus. "Point." The Decepticon leader sighed heavily in frustration. "Unicron preserve my sanity for as long as I need to be stuck in this disgusting carbon-based shell."

"Go away and let me sleep," Optimus half-pleaded.

Megatron pushed away from the wall, but there was an odd light in his eyes made Optimus step back into his room. Megatron reached out and caught Optimus' wrist, which sent a frission of sensation through his entire body.

"Why are you so moody?" Megatron demanded. "You made it impossible to sleep today."

Optimus shook his head sharply, although he didn't bother to pull his hand away. "I'm glad you finally know how I feel half the time you're out," Optimus said dryly. "Whatever you do to make the money you do keeps you so on edge that I end up tossing and turning most of the night."

Megatron snorted in derision. "Of course, Prime."

There was a brief silence before Optimus pulled his hand out from Megatron's grip and closed the door to his room, leaving himself looking at nothing but fake-wood door.

He let the towel around his waist fall to the ground as he turned and walked over the closet before he retrieved a t-shirt and sweatpants. He hesitated and closed his eyes, simply _feeling_ the sensation of the fabric against his hands.

'...I can't risk it,' Optimus thought bleakly as he pulled is pajamas on. 'I can't risk it with how closely tied he and I are.'

"Primus help me," Optimus muttered as he climbed into his bed and dragged the blankets around him.

He was out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

–

Abnormal height had its advantages, as products on top shelves were always within his reach. Optimus took down a can of pasta sauce and turned it over in his hands. He had discovered that he and Megatron needed little in the way of food—probably an effect of their mechanical heritage—but Optimus enjoyed cooking, so most of his salary went to buying food. He was pushing the shopping cart into the junk-food aisle when a wave of shock, revulsion, and a mild amount of terror slammed into him, making him stumble.

_Primus, Megatron, what the hell was that?_ He snapped.

_Get back here. __**Now**_.

Optimus frowned slightly. Very little surprised Megatron, and even fewer things scared him, and while the Decepticon's voice was controlled, there was no mistaking what he had felt before.

_Why?_ He asked cautiously.

_That fucking Autobot must've said something, since I have government agents standing on the other side of the threshold._

Optimus had the disorienting experience of seeing another picture briefly superimposing itself on his current surroundings—three people stood before him, two women and one man, all of obvious military persuasion, looking at him expectantly. It lasted for not even a second, but left Optimus nervous.

'I _hate_ surprises.'

Optimus bought what few things he had collected before speed-walking back to the apartment. He took the stairs at a leisurely pace, however, trying to figure out how to react to government presence, when he should have no warning about.

_Do you know the branches?_

_NEST, CIA…Army? Navy? Air Force? Fuck it if I know. Only the CIA girl is in uniform, and I'd remember that stupid badge of NEST's anywhere._

Optimus sighed and resisted the urge to rub his eyes in frustration.

'Another complication.'

He needn't have worried about his reaction, though, as the door was pulled open for him, which was surprising enough.

The woman who was before him was the picture of a no-one, someone who anyone would ignore—and therefore could hear things and go places that more exceptional people would never have access to. It was only the gun holster and badge that told him she was more than she seemed.

Optimus smiled nervously at her and stepped in, the door closing behind him as he placed his groceries on the counter.

_You actually _let_ them in?_

_I wasn't going to have them treat me like some common criminal and bust the door down!_

Optimus spread his arms so his body hovered slightly over the counter, his hands splayed outwards, obviously tense. "Is there anything I can offer you for food? Drink?"

_Prime!_

_There's no harm in being _nice_. You forget that we're no longer made of nearly indestructible metal._

"No, but thanks."

Optimus was caught by surprise by the new voice and found two other people resting on the couch as Megtron hovered by the window, his posture relaxed, but his expression tight and wary.

One of the two was indeed a soldier from NEST, one that Optimus distantly recalled, but his time in NEST seemed so far away now…

"Nice place you got," the soldier said lightly as the woman beside him suppressed a sigh—the woman whose military branch neither he nor Megatron could identify.

"Thank you," Optimus replied carefully. "Now, if you don't mind my asking—"

"—Why are we here?" the woman on the couch finished for him as she leaned back into the cushion. "It's a complicated answer."

"To put it _short_, we can't let either of you stay in the public anymore," the CIA agent said.

Optimus' eyes darted briefly over to Megatron. _What did you do?_

Megatron felt distinctly ruffled. _My business is secrets. I may have…stumbled upon an interesting one regarding you, me, and the other Cybertronians._

_Primus, Megs…_

"Why?" Optimus asked. "I'm no-one. I've done nothing worth note."

The NEST agent rested his elbows on his thighs and smiled. "I beg to differ. Aside from you _both_ being unregistered aliens—"

Optimus felt a spike of both annoyance and amusement at the phrasing of the statement.

"—you, Orion Pedersen, managed to draw the attention of a very, very special secret."

Optimus affected baffled very well.

The woman sitting next to the NEST soldier looked impressed. "You're good, but you know what we're talking about. We can't discuss much more in the way of specifics _here_. You both seem like reasonable men, so you'll come with us without resistance, hm?"

Optimus frowned. "My job—"

The NEST soldier waved his concern away. "Don't worry about that."

Megatron gave him a wary look. "You're not going to kill us, are you?"

The NEST soldier laughed as the CIA agent sighed.

"No, no, we're not."

"Then why are you taking us away?"

"That needs to be explained else—"

"Simply put, you're exceptional. Michael managed to break into _quantum_-encrypted files and you, Orion…well, that's a little harder to explain. Needless to say, _you_ are definitely coming with us, whether you like it or not," the soldier said cheerfully. "Now, we'll send someone back to collect all your belongings, but time is of the essence."

_Prime…_

_They're stronger than we are, and have weapons. And look at it this way—you didn't need to apply to be in the military, they simply dragged you into it._

Megatron sighed and pushed away from the wall, passing Optimus on the way to the door.

_They really not going to kill us?_

_Megs, if they wanted to kill us, you and I would both be dead by now._

_Point._

Megatron picked up his jacket, hat, and sunglasses and walked out the door, and Optimus followed him with a sigh, the NEST soldier and the woman soldier falling in beside them as the CIA agent scouted ahead.

_I'm not some criminal!_

_Yes, you are._

Megatron seethed at Optimus, who sighed inwardly.

Optimus took the stairs while Megatron took the elevator, which obviously amused the government agents. The arrived at approximately the same time, and Optimus sighed at the discontent he was getting from Megatron.

_Try to behave, will you?_

All he received was a simmering unhappiness.

The two were escorted outside and Optimus was relieved that no surprises waited for them.

_What were you afraid of? _Megatron asked as he slid smoothly into the back seat of the car that was waiting for them.

_That an Autobot would be waiting here,_ Optimus confessed.

_Ugh, that would've felt…obscene._

Optimus agreed as he settled down, the CIA agent and other soldier taking places at the driver's seat and passenger's seat, and Optimus looked out the window to see the NEST agent mounting a familiar motorcycle.

A motorcycle that made him want to rub his eyes in frustration.

_Prime? Wha…aah. What the hell, Prime? How do you and your pests manage to undo all my hard work?_

_Honestly, I have no idea. The last time I saw her, Arcee was nearly insane from the loss of two of three parts of her form. As she seems perfectly fine now, I assume that Ratchet somehow managed to pull the other two back from near-death._

'Either that or the glimmers we saw in Sam have begun to manifest…'

"Where are we going?" Megatron asked aloud, obviously sulking.

"You two are going to become unofficial civilian members of the secret military branch in the US Armed Forces called 'NEST'," the soldier replied, obviously weary. "You really are quite lucky, you know. There _were_ calls for your…well, for the permanent removal of the threat you pose. But, Sunstreaker was adamant that Orion be spared, and when Sideswipe throws his weight in with his brother, well…the damage they could do would be far worse than you."

Optimus frowned in mock confusion as Megatron huffed a disbelieving sigh and went back to looking out the window, playing with one of the rings on his fingers.

"But why keep Mike alive?" Optimus asked, the name feeling clumsy on his tongue. "If he caught you with your metaphorical pants down…"

"_No-one_ should be able to undo quantum encryption who doesn't have the key, so we want him before someone else recruits him," the CIA agent said simply.

Silence fell again before Optimus said, "You know _our_ names—what're yours?"

The soldier looked surprised before she sighed and said, "I'm tempted to say, 'that's classified', but if we're going to be working together…I'm Michelle and she's Kim," Michelle introduced. "The guy riding with Arcee is Dan."

'_With' Arcee?_

_The humans try to exert control, but in the end, the Autobots have the final say in how and where they go. It's more of a formality and comfort that we let them think they're driving._

_Hmph._

"You still didn't tell us _where_ we're going," Megatron pointed out.

"JFK, then a military base," Kim answered succinctly.

"Ah," Megatron replied, before he leaned back and looked out the window once more.

The silence was stifling, as was the odd sense of…potential. It felt like the time that he had become Prime and gone from being a no-one to being someone that _everyone_ knew, it felt almost like…destiny.

_You're thinking too hard, Prime. This is simply the fulfillment of a desire that we both shared that managed to come true on its own. I'm glad I refused to pay until after the documents were created. I would've wasted a lot of money._

_For all you deride them, you've gained a human vice,_ Optimus replied, amused.

Megatron sent him a bland look. _I do what I must to survive—as have you._

Optimus propped his chin on his hand as he watched the buildings whizz on by, Kim driving almost as recklessly as a taxi-driver.

Optimus found himself dozing, a brief worry about the food going bad meandering through his head before the car came to a surprisingly gentle stop.

Optimus woke before Megatron could force him awake and he stepped out of the carefully. He was relieved, again, to see that the helicopter that would be taking them to wherever their destination wasn't an Autobot.

_So far so good, Prime. You sure they won't try to push us off?_

Optimus shot him a dry look. _They're not Decepticons._

_You never know—I'm convinced that this would be an entire planet of Decepticons, if they suddenly became Cybertronian. _

Optimus sighed softly and followed the government agents, unconsciously falling into step with Megatron.

The pilot gave the government agents a smart salute, and admirably hid the curiosity that he must've felt at Optimus' and Megatron's presences. They were handed earmuffs and made themselves as comfortable as possible in the helicopter, Megatron sitting up straight as Optimus leaned back into the seat.

_Where do you think they'll take us?_

_The main base is very, very far away. I don't think they'd put us in a 'copter if we were going there. Not if we wanted to get there with any speed._

_So, you think there might be more than one base?_

_Anymore? Probably._

_Hm._

Optimus settled himself as best as possible before he closed his eyes. _Try to get some sleep, Megs. I have the bad feeling that life is about to get a whole lot more complicated._

_That's putting it lightly, _Megatron muttered, but it was distant, as the former Decepticon's attention drifted elsewhere.

However, Optimus found it impossible to get any rest, and not because of the sound of helicopter's rotors. It stemmed from the simple fact that he was going to see his comrades again.

'What will it be like?' he wondered as his stomach twisted in knots. 'I'm…no longer who I was.' Optimus' eyes opened slightly, although he was nonetheless painfully aware of what was going on around him.

During the process of living as a human, Optimus had been able to divert thoughts of what could be happening to the Autobots. Unfortunately, now that he had nothing to distract himself, his mind turned to his former life.

'I haven't seen or heard anything, except for wild speculation on the internet,' he thought as he kept his face carefully composed. 'That doesn't mean that there haven't been conflicts. The war hasn't stopped just because I became human. Maybe I haven't heard anything because they're all gone—dead or kicked off the planet. I bet they've given up on me,' he thought as he lightly bit his lip. 'I _hope_ they've given up on me, for all that hurts. I just _vanished_, afterall. I didn't stay to see if others would look for me—there had simply been a drive to find a way to stay safe, and being in one spot hadn't seemed safe. Perhaps even then I was behaving more like a terrified human than a rational Cybertronian.'

Optimus smiled wryly, a shiver of self-deprecation whispering through him.

'I'm sure they're all right. Bumblebee, Ratchet, Ironhide and all the others. But…'

_God, Prime, _stop it_. Your obsessing is getting you no-where and you're giving me a headache._

Optimus' eyes briefly flicked over to Megatron, whose posture was sullen, but gave nothing else away.

_You've never cared about your subordinates,_ Optimus replied tersely.

_It's easier that way,_ Megatron returned dismissively. _I wasn't torn up by anyone's death, which let me lead better. No silly attachments._

_It's the bonds between us that make us strong. We accomplish more together._

_Those connections only make you fraught with liabilities._

_You have dissension in your ranks! That splits you, makes you _weak._ How can you achieve a common goal, when no-one can decide what that goal is?_

Optimus had the distinct feeling of a smug smile.

_Prime, Prime, Prime. What is it about you that refuses to see the greater picture?  
There is no gain in the loss of another's life._

_No _immediate_ gain. Admittedly, the death of a key player can make all the difference—albeit that difference can swing any number of ways. In the end, death is useful._

_Death is wasteful. You better than anyone shouldn't speak of death lightly._

Optimus caught Megatron shooting him a dirty look before his face smoothed out once more.

_You've died, too._

Optimus suppressed a grimace. _So I have, thanks to _you_._

_You're welcome,_ came the dry reply.

_But that taught me the value of life._

Optimus got the distinct feeling of a sigh.

_I've been dead for a very long time now, Prime,_ Megatron said, voice oddly flat and defeated.

Curiosity got the better of Optimus and he asked, _Oh?_

However, Megatron remained silent, before he asked: _Will they know?_

_Know what?_ Optimus replied, wary.

_About…this. The thing we have. Will they be able to sense it? Will anything be given away?_

Optimus hesitated. _I'm not sure._

_That's not a good answer, Prime._

_I know!_ Optimus replied heatedly. _The thing is that what we have is…rare, to put it lightly._

_Exceptionally so, since I find myself continually ignorant about it,_ Megatron replied, anger and resentment lacing his voice.

_I don't think so, though. There's technically nothing that they could latch onto and hack. Cybertronians are unable to read human thoughts._

Autobots_ are unable to read human minds._

Optimus tensed slightly and looked quickly at Megatron who smirked faintly.

_I'd bet that Soundwave could read human thoughts. Brain activity is a series of electronic impulses. With his intricate attention to detail, I'm sure he could eventually figure out what impulses indicate thought._

Optimus looked down at his fingers as he laced them together. _Perhaps. I'd like to think humans are a little more complicated than that._

Optimus got the distinct feeling of an eye-roll. _You give them too much credit. _

_In any event…_Optimus sighed quietly. _It's more than them that we have to worry about._

_Oh?_

_The humans we'll be interacting with now are trained to be observant. There are little things that we do _physically_ that won't match up with normal behavior. _

Optimus felt Megatron mull the statement over. _So we have to watch our step around _everyone.

_Basically,_ Optimus admitted, and he got the distinct feeling of a grimace. _We're still not really human. There are too many things we do that don't match up. We're good at pretending, but…_

_Ah, shit,_ Megatron cut in.

_What?_ Optimus asked warily.

_Names. We can't slip up on _names._ Unicron, I can't call you Prime anymore without raising a thousand suspicions._

_I don't know. Maybe it would be good to raise suspicions. There are enough smart 'bots to potentially put together who I am._

_And then put who _I_ am together if you call me Megs,_ Megatron pointed out dryly. _I have no illusions as to what your subordinates would do to me._

_But then they'd find out…_

_That we're connected through the most intimate connection possible?_ Megatron sneered. _I can see how well that would fly. Tell me, Prime. What would they do?_

Optimus hesitated and looked out to the quickly-passing ground below. _You know as well as I do that reaction would be based upon personality. There would be those who would call for your death, knowing that I would die as well—but certainly that would be better than being bound on the deepest level possible to the greatest evil that Cybertron has ever seen. Some would seek to find a way to break the bond without killing us._

_Is that even possible?_

_Megatron, half of my soul is yours and half of your soul is mine._

_Right. Other reactions?_

_Some would try to find a way to use you. Some would imprison you. And, of course, some would try to find a way to return us to our rightful bodies, hoping that doing so would weaken the bond. We possess _souls_ now—what if returning to sparks changed the nature?_

_It could make it tighter, you know._

_Or looser. _

There was a long silence before Megatron asked, _And if we carry on the charade? If we continue to pretend to be humans? Is there any benefit to be had?_

_Well, we wouldn't be dead,_ Optimus said dryly.

_True._

_We'd have greater freedom of movement as humans. We could see things that Cybertronians wouldn't be able to get to because of their alien nature. We might be able to figure out what happened to us simply because we can get more information from more places._

_Prime, it was a _Cybertronian_ weapon used on us._

_It was Cybertronian _engineering_. Megatron, who goes with Autobots anymore to investigate Decepticon-based activity?_

_Humans…what, are you saying that our plan stays the same?_

_We embed ourselves in NEST, yes._

_They won't trust us._

_Not initially._

_Prime, are you thinking like a Decepticon?_

_I'm thinking like someone who doesn't appreciate being tied to a being he hates,_ Optimus snapped, and was puzzled by the briefest flash of annoyance and hurt, but it was so fast that he might have just imagined it.

_Very well,_ Megtron replied with contained venom in his voice. _We infiltrate NEST. Then what?_

_We go on their missions. We make use of their intelligence. _Optimus sighed tiredly. _And we find out what your subordinates used on us and whether or not anything can be done to reverse this. _

…_sounds like a good enough plan. Perhaps I don't give your intellect enough credit._

It was a backhanded compliment, since Megatron sneered the statement, but Optimus took it at face-value: Megatron would play along because he simply had no other ideas.

Optimus shook his head inwardly and turned his gaze back to the passing landscape, propping his chin on his palm.

'I think that my life is more complicated now than when I was an Autobot…'

"We'll be at the base in an hour or so," came the voice through the headphones, and Optimus looked over to the NEST soldier who sat across from them, and Optimus saw wary intrigue in his eyes and posture.

_He was watching us the entire time, wasn't he?_

_I think so._

Optimus blocked out the litany of swears as he nodded. "Alright. Anything I should expect?"

Dan smiled. "Expect to be surprised."

"Fantastic," Megatron grumbled. "I bet you're gonna kill us, aren't you?"

"We are very high up over unpopulated areas. If we wanted to kill you, we could just push you out," Kim stated. "There is no way that you'd survive the sudden stop at the end from this height."

"Reassuring," Megatron drawled.

_See?_

_You trust people too easily._

"Where are we anyway?"

"It doesn't matt—"

"We're in Virginia," Dan answered. "We'll be stopping in South Carolina."

"What the hell is in South Carolina?" Megatron asked dryly.

"And that is _exactly_ why it was chosen," Dan answered cheerfully. "Who would think to look _there_ for a top-secret government base?"

Megatron grunted in acknowledgement.

"So, what exactly is going to happen to us when we get there?" Optimus asked.

"It all depends on how you react," Dan said with a shrug. "Just know that you're not going back to how your life used to be. You're going to be spending the rest of your time with us—I figure that it's the better option between lifetime in high-security prison and serving with NEST. The food's better and you have a possibility of seeing something other than the base itself."

_He _really_ thinks that a human prison could hold _me?

_Megatron…_

"What are the options available to us there?" Optimus asked carefully.

"Honestly? I think that security, R&D, or more…mechanical…work will be what is open to you."

_Don't mention our desire to be soldiers yet, Megs,_ Optimus said quickly before Megatron could open his mouth.

_Why?_

_I think that our reaction to the Autobots will weigh in on that decision. I'd like them to see that we're open to giant alien robots before trying to worm our way into NEST._

Megatron didn't bother to reply, although there was a quiet, annoyed agreement.

Silence fell in the cabin as Optimus stared at nothing, trying not to think. Things would happen how they would happen. He had, unfortunately, no control over the situation.

Optimus felt the helicopter shift and could tell that they were beginning descent.

"We're there boys," Dan said cheerfully.

Megatron grunted in recognition as Optimus nodded.

While there seemed to be very little in the area, Optimus could make out small inconsistencies that said what was there was more than an 'abandoned' Air Force base. The car tracks were too new, the pavement and grass were too well-kept, and the strip that they were landing on was obviously new. All of that would mostly be invisible or dismissible from the air, and Optimus hadn't seen any settlements for some time.

The helicopter touched down gently and the rotors slowed to a stop. Optimus was glad to take off the earmuffs, and saw Megatron shake his head in an attempt to re-equilibrate himself.

Dan and other government agents got out first, with Megatron following them and Optimus bringing up the rear.

Megatron took a look around, cocked an eyebrow and drawled, "Whoo. Impressive."

Dan coughed to cover a laugh and said, "Just follow me."

Before they had taken too many steps towards the large hangar, a bright yellow blur came out from between the open doors.

Megatron's eyebrows snapped up and he said, _Is that the one?_

_I have a bad feeling that's Sunstreaker, yes._

"Ah, no," Optimus heard Dan groan, and looked over to him in curiosity. Before he could ask anything, however, Sunstreaker transformed into his Cybertronian form and came to a graceful stop before them, his build a mirror-image of his brother's.

Optimus had never understood how _large_ Autobots were in comparison to their human counterparts, but now that he found himself looking up at a very large, very imposing alien robot, he couldn't help but be keenly aware of just how fragile he was in comparison.

"Holy shit," Megatron breathed.

Optimus could only agree.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author**: oh hey. I update! Obviously there is no pattern, so I promise no set time when I update. It will simply...happen. Thank you to those who review, who read, and who favorite.

**Disclaimer**: lololol

**Chapter 6**

After the initial visceral shock of seeing Sunstreaker in his Cybertronian form had faded, a strong sense of wonder colored with a pang of longing had washed through Optimus, almost as strong as the wave of bitterness and envy he felt from Megatron.

"Thank you for saving my life," Sunstreaker had said and knelt down so that he was more on-level with Optimus.

Optimus had to blink a few times before he gave the Autobot a hesitant smile. "You're welcome?"

Optimus felt a hand place itself on his shoulder and Dan gave him a wry smile before saying, "Orion, meet Sunstreaker. You know that car you were working on? The one you made the government pay good money for?"

Optimus frowned for a moment before his eyes widened in feigned alarm. "Wait, _what_? That's, but…" Optimus ran a hand over his hair before he sighed and said, "Well, of _course_. I knew it was something special, normal fuel don't leave _scars_." Optimus sighed and stood a little straighter, looking Sunstreaker in the optics. "Hi, Sunstreaker. You know my name already, I guess, from my boss yelling it any number of times?"

There was a hint of a smirk on the bot's face before he leaned back and folded into his alt form, a shiny yellow corvette gleaming in the sunlight, not a scratch or dent anywhere on the surface. Optimus' eyebrows shot up as the passenger-side door opened for him and a voice came from the vehicle saying, "Climb on in, Orion. Might as well get you to the rest of the base in style and then I can introduce you to Sides."

Optimus hesitated for only a breath before walking to Sunstreaker and stepping into the cab. The door closed behind him and he was allowed to find a comfortable seat for himself before Sunstreaker took off, the tires not even screeching.

Optimus recovered his stomach and after a moment said, "So."

"I owe you my life, Orion. Without you I would be just another pile of scrap, and I'm far too attractive for that."

"Ah. Well, you're welcome."

A slightly awkward silence fell before Sunstreaker said, "Look, I don't like being indebted to people. I owe you a favor—and a huge one at that. Is there anything I can do for you?"

Optimus shifted uncomfortably, cleared his throat, and said, "Nothing that I can think of right now."

A slightly sullen silence filled the cabin before Sunstreaker sighed dramatically and said, "Fine. But, I have a question for you, human: how did you know how to repair a _Cybertronian_?"

Optimus shrugged, the cloth of his shirt whispering against the leather seats. "I didn't know what you were—I treated you like any other car, albeit one that had a few very strange things wedged in _very_ strange places."

"Slagging 'cons," Sunstreaker muttered darkly.

"What?"

"Oh, well. I was that way cause I got into a tangle with one of our enemies—the Decepticons."

Optimus shifted in his seat. "There are more of you?"

He could hear the smirk in Sunstreaker's voice when he said, "Yup. There're us—the Autobots, the good guys—and the Decepticons, who are more-or-less evil incarnate and need to be wiped off the face of the universe."

"Oh," Optimus said and leaned back slightly, and the oddest feeling wormed its way up his spine.

'Is this how they felt, when someone rode with me? As if every part of their body was somehow violating the Autobot, touching the 'insides', even if they really aren't.'

"Hey, you doing okay?"

"Just feel weird riding in a sentient car. I mean, how does it _feel_ to have me in you?"

_Which is perhaps one of the more awkward sentences you've uttered, Prime._

_Shut up._

"I guess it's like when a fly lands on you humans. You're not really _in_ me—all that the car's cabin is is empty space, places and joints for things to fold and maneuver when I return to my true form. It's convenient, but otherwise unimportant."

"Aha," Optimus replied. "So, Autobots?" he prompted.

"They probably didn't tell you anything on the ride, did they?"

"No," Optimus replied and felt Megatron paying keen attention through their link.

"Well, we Autobots are from the planet Cybertron, which, unfortunately, was torn apart in a war started by the then High Protector, Megatron."

The venom in his voice provoked a spike of amusement from Megatron and an inward sigh from Optimus.

"The war eventually drove everyone off-planet, since there really wasn't much left there. A lot of people sought refuge on other planets, some people looked for the All Spark—"

"The what?"

"All Spark? Oh, it was only the thing that gave us the ability to continue our people. With it gone…well, we don't procreate like you squishies and without the All Spark there's no hope for any further sparks. Apparently it was found here, but since Megaturd was a douche bag, it was destroyed and even the shards stolen and used by the Decepticraps."

"I'm sorry…"

"Pfft, not your fault that the other 'bots are inept. Now, you see, if Sides and I had been here _together_, well things would've turned out differently."

_Modest one, isn't he?_

_You're one to talk._

"You've mentioned 'Sides' twice now."

"Oh, he's my brother, my twin, and the only other competent Autobot planet-side."

Optimus hummed. "And I'm going to meet him?"

"Well, you and your _friend_ will meet everyone eventually. They're planning on introducing you to the Hatchet and we'll see what your stuff is made of then, and Primus only knows what'll happen to the other guy."

Optimus hesitated, then sighed inwardly and asked, "Well, I'm more of a casual mechanic than anyone trained. I won't be of any use, really. Military machines are a breed apart from civilian ones."

Sunstreaker made a derisive sound. "They are nothing compared to Cybertronian and yet you managed to maneuver your way around me."

Optimus shifted in his seat and sighed again. "Just gonna be weird being back on a military base and not—" Optimus abruptly cut off, and could feel Sunstreaker's curiosity.

"You've been on a military base before?"

"So, who else is here along with you and Sides?" Optimus asked instead. He was taking a gamble, but knowing Sunstreaker as he did and based off of the mech's offer, Optimus was _mostly_ sure that he and Megatron would be able to get in as soldiers and not just civilian-attaché.

He could almost _feel_ Sunstreaker's curiosity, but the 'bot took the change in topic well—probably because he would circle back to it sometime.

"Well, there are quite a few of us anymore. Lots of people got Prime's…got Optimus' summons. If only the natives of this planet weren't so damn _annoying_…yourself excluded, of course."

"Of course," Optimus replied.

"We got a CMO, CSO, Recon, Intel, Soldiers…all sorts of 'bots, kinda like how the squishy military works."

"Bet it has all the kinks and snares of it, too," Optimus grumbled deliberately.

"I'm in combat—I'm the best there is out there, but you're probably no slouch in a fight, either, given your build and constitution."

"I can hold my own, this is true," Optimus replied idly. "As can my…friend."

_Oh, don't sound so reluctant Prime!_

_I bet that you weren't nearly as kind._

"Sounds more like he's more of a—hm, what did they call it?—a _frienemy_."

Optimus bit back a laugh and said, "You might call him that."

"Why do you stick together, then?"

Optimus' good humor fell and he simply shook his head.

"So, do these people have names?"

"Autobots or 'bots, please—we're not human, so I don't want to be called a 'person'."

Optimus frowned slightly. "Very well."

_I didn't mind being called that,_ Optimus observed.

_You were very lenient, Optimus. I would have had problems being called a _person_._

_You have problems with _everything.

_Yes, well._

Optimus turned to listening to Sunstreaker again, who was happily rattling off those who had made it to the base—and there were more than a few.

_Unicron, we'll soon be overrun by you maggots._

_Quiet you._ "And the…Decepticons? Are there more of them, too?"

Optimus could feel the scowl that would be on the mech's face as he growled, "Unfortunately. Still, that means there's simply more of them to kill, and therefore more glory to be had."

_Sunstreaker would make a great Decepticon. He's egotistic and violent enough._

Optimus sighed inwardly.

The hangar doors opened slowly until there was room enough for Sunstreaker to comfortably pass through.

Optimus looked through the window with a critical eye, noting all the details that had been in planning last he had checked. It was a new base—literally; probably one of those that had been in discussion before he had vanished. While it was obvious that it had _always_ been a military base, it had only recently been converted to NEST use, as was evidenced by the more spacious build. Cybertronians weren't exactly compact. Everything inside was gleaming and state-of-the-art. People were hustling about, walking smartly to one place or another—even those with a more leisurely gait had _intent_ behind the movement.

"You said you've been on a military base before," Sunstreaker said in as best an off-handed manner that a mech with his temperament could manage.

"But not one this _new_," Optimus replied. "And certainly not one with all these inhabitants."

They wove around humans, supplies, and machinery until they came to a separate building behind the main hangar—a building that was obviously serving as the Autobot's 'barracks', so to speak.

"Sides should've just come back from a mission," Sunstreaker commented as they pulled into the spacious building.

Optimus stepped out of the cabin and looked around critically—he hoped it was interpreted as awe. Sunstreaker wasn't one of the more observant 'bots—at least, unless it had something to do with him specifically.

Optimus heard the odd pinging white noise in his ears and rubbed them in annoyance—only to wonder, as Sideswipe came roaring around the corner, that it might be the last vestiges of being able to hear Autobot communication, which was unsettling and gave him a small headache.

Sideswipe transformed as smoothly as his brother had, and the two of them loomed over Optimus, making him feel very small, which conversely made him stand up all the straighter. He understood that Sideswipe meant to be intimidating, but Optimus had faced down worse things than a protective sibling.

"Are you the one who saved Sunny?" Sideswipe asked in a quiet, wary tone.

Optimus nodded. "I repaired what I could, yes."

Sideswipe shifted on his tires, sighed, then said: "Thank you. If there is anything at all I can do…"

Optimus smiled faintly. "Sunstreaker also offered me his help. Right now I can't think of anything…" Optimus trailed off as he caught a few other Autobots trying to covertly observe him.

"Don't mind them," Sunstreaker said and waved a hand dismissively. "They'll eventually talk to you if they muster up the _courage_ to do so," he sneered loud enough to be heard throughout the hangar. "You're just not from this planet's military, and most interaction that they have with non-military personnel is when they're running screaming from Decepticraps."

Optimus shrugged, although a small, rueful smile flitted across his face.

Optimus winced at a buzzing, metallic sound that came from another mech who unfolded from his alt form—

'Oh Primus,' he moaned inwardly as the Mudflap and Skids took offense to Sunstreaker's implication, who merely regarded them with a haughty sneer.

Optimus edged away from the two pairs towards where might be slightly safer, out of the direct line of fire.

Tension and the argument began to escalate—thankfully past the threshold of his dwindling audio perception—and Optimus feared for damage to everything and everyone nearby.

Mudflap lunged towards Sunstreaker as Sideswipe whipped out his weaponry—only to have the younger twin pulled back by a mech that Optimus _almost_ recognized and Sideswipe was forced to power down by Ironhide's more substantial weaponry placed point-blank against Sideswipe's face.

"Would you _calm down_?" the familiar-not-familiar Autobot snapped, his tone bropoking no argument.

An argument flew over Optimus' head as they spoke Cybertronian very quickly, giving Optimus time to figure out who the newest Autobot was. He _knew_ him, knew the voice he used, but could only guess at his natural form.

'Still…'

The confrontation came to a simmering conclusion and the new Autobot looked around cautiously and meticulously until he spotted Optimus.

It was only when optics met eyes that Optimus realized who he was looking at.

It took a great deal of his self-control to keep himself from gaping at Prowl.

'Yes, Sunstreaker told me he was on Earth, but, still…'

"Are you the cause of this?" he half-demanded, and Optimus crossed his arms over his chest to hide his nervous surprise.

"Unintentionally, I believe," he answered evenly. "I helped repair what I could of Sunstreaker when he came to me, and Sunstreaker wanted me to meet his twin, Sideswipe, so I am here. I believe that Sunstreaker said something that annoyed the other two," he said and gestured to Skids and Mudflap, who were sulking in a corner.

Prowl sighed and rubbed his optics and said, "Of course he did. I assume, then, that you are Orion?"

Optimus nodded and walked out of where he had half-hidden so he could get a better look at Prowl as much a Prowl could get a better handle on him.

"I assume you are the compatriot to the other human who arrived," Prowl said evenly, although there was the smallest hint of annoyance.

Optimus nodded. "I'm here because I fixed something I wasn't supposed to know about and 'tron is here because he got into somewhere he wasn't supposed to be able to."

_Tron?_

_Technically it's your last name. I can't call you Megs anymore, and Mike or Michael seems…strange._

_Hm. Tron it is, then._

Annoyance manifested more fully on Prowl's features and he nodded stiffly. "I was told to bring you to meet Prime and Captain Lennox and Samuel Witwicky—the fastest way to get you there would be for you to ride with me." Prowl looked away from Optimus and said something to Ironhide, who smirked as there was the sound of one of his weapons charging.

Both sets of twins looked at him warily.

Prowl quickly reached Optimus and folded into a local police vehicle before opening the driver-side door.

Optimus sighed inwardly and walked over to Prowl before slipping into the seat, the door closing for him. Silence reigned in the cabin as the barracks turned into tamed wilderness became the main hangar. Prowl stopped a few yards away from where Megatron was standing, his face utterly unreadable, and let Optimus out to join the Decepticon-turned-human.

_Who did they spring on you?_ Optimus asked.

Megatron's eyes didn't even dart over to him when he replied, _Your CMO, CSO, weapons specialist—until he was called away—and the one whose code I broke. You'd be surprised how flustered an intelligence expert can be when a seemingly unbreakable code is demolished._

Optimus contained a sigh and said, _Who are we waiting for?_

_You, and now the Witwicky brat. Although I don't know _why_ the latter. It's not like he is anything but dumb lucky._

_You do Sam a disservice,_ Optimus replied._ He's quite the young man._

_Right, Prime,_ Megatron replied dryly. _You put far too much faith in humans._

_Which you happen to be._

_Don't remind me._

"You know, you're taking this with much more grace than a lot of the _soldiers_," a NEST soldier said, unable to fully conceal his subtle approval at their lack of reaction when Prowl, Red Alert, Ratchet, and the new Prime unfolded into their Cybertronian form.

Optimus _was_ sent reeling, however, at the unlucky Autobot who had taken up the burden of leadership and became a Prime.

'Primus preserve us all, Hot Rod? Of course, I had always known that he was Prime material—I was tutoring him before the war broke out and brought all peacetime pursuits to an end, but it's still…'

"Orion, I'd like you to meet Red Alert—our chief security officer—Ratchet, our chief medical officer, and our chief officer-in-general Rodimus Prime. You have already met Prowl, the Autobot SIC," a NEST officer said—who Optimus knew to be Captain Lennox, who introduced himself shortly thereafter.

"Do you treat everyone who is new to the base like this, or are we just _special_?" Megatron drawled as he buffed his nails against his shirt.

Captain Lennox gave them a wolfish grin. "Oh, this is what all the new recruits are treated to. I've seen more than one Marine go weak with fright, but you two either have really good poker faces or spines of steel."

Megatron smirked as Optimus shook his head.

"I've seen a lot of strange things," Optimus said. "I can just add 'alien robots' to the list."

Lennox snickered as Ratchet 'cleared his throat' to get their attention.

Megatron lifted an eyebrow as Optimus looked at the CMO expectantly.

"All the new…people on base have to undergo a physical examination. As an important friend was attacked by a Decepticon posing as a human before, we feel that there is no need to take unnecessary risks when the problem can be remedied easily enough."

"There was, of course, a background check run—which came up with nothing," Red Alert said flatly, obviously highly suspicious. "You're not citizens of this country."

"You're not going to do any anal probes, are you?" Megatron asked dryly, ignoring Red Alert completely.

His statement provoked the smallest of chuckles from Ratchet, who shook his head after a moment. "No, a simple physical is all—nothing will be done to you like you see in movies."

"Right," Megatron drawled, which caused Captain Lennox to cough to hide a laugh.

"But we really must ask," Prowl said, voice and countenance grim and serious. "If you are not citizens of _this_ country, to which do you belong?"

Optimus' shoulders slumped, and he sighed heavily as he ran a hand over his hair. "It's…complicated. Coming to America changed…everything. Remade me," Optimus said even as his mind raced to piece together something. "The same is true for 'tron. We hate each other, but we're nearly brothers, from how much we've lived through together. We've been to so many places that…well, countless locations, countless people, countless conflicts, everything becomes uniform in violence."

Silence briefly fell before Rodimus Prime said, "Your primary professions aren't a mechanic or a hacker, are they?"

_I believe I have underestimated you, Prime,_ Megatron said as he gave Optimus a covert look. _Everything you've said is true without giving away any details at all. You haven't lied, but you haven't told the whole story._

Optimus looked away and focused on the floor as his hands clenched in anxiety and shame. _One does what one must._

"You're soldiers," Rodimus Prime stated.

Red Alert's anxiety levels were obviously skyrocketing, so Optimus sighed and looked up at his successor. "And?"

Rodimus frowned slightly.

"Soldiers and _spies_," Red Alert accused, and Megatron had the grace to look insulted.

"Spies? Spying is too roundabout, too inelegant," Megatron sneered. "Better to settle everything cleanly and permanently than draw out the blood of a conflict through a steady trickle of conflicting information and ulterior motivations. Too much can go wrong when being or using a spy."

An uneasy, vast silence fell and Optimus felt his whole body humming in anticipation of _something_.

"Sunstreaker _and_ Sideswipe have both claimed a debt to me," Optimus said, cutting into the thick air. "I am collecting the debt."

All the Autobots tensed, and Lennox looked no happier.

"What would you claim from them?" Rodimus asked carefully.

"From Sunstreaker—clemency. From Sideswipe—well, 'tron and I are better at fighting than anything else; allow us to become soldiers for your program."

"You won't regret it," Megatron said with a smirk. "I am _very_ good at what I do."

"Hey, what did I miss?"

Optimus turned slightly to face the breathless youth that stopped between the 'bots and they as Megatron's face smoothed out into a placid mask—although Optimus could feel the unadulterated _hate_ the Decepticon felt for the boy swirling through their link, barraging his mind.

Lennox smiled in bemusement and said, "Sam, I'd like you to meet our newest recruits—Orion Pedersen and Michael Tron."

Sam frowned. "They don't look military."

"Looks can be deceiving," Megatron said, his voice carefully controlled to betray none of his emotions.

_There's something wrong about the boy._

_Not wrong—just strange._

_You actually agree with me?_

_No, you ass. There's something _different_ about him. Something that speaks of…_

_Power. Something that speaks of _power._ It feels almost like the…_

"Don't I know it," Sam said, a wry note to his voice that spoke of barely understood secrets. "You're definitely treating them to the gauntlet, though, having the higher-ups meet them first."

"Untrue! Orion met Sunstreaker and Sideswipe first."

Sam gave a laughing groan. "I think that may be worse!"

Orion shrugged, but the tension he felt didn't leave him, even though the air seemed to have lightened.

"Well, boys, this kid Sam Witwicky, the savior of the human race."

Sam squawked a protest and said, "No I didn't! Well, maybe a little. But it was mostly Optimus who—"

A sad silence fell at the mention of Optimus' name and part of Optimus wanted to reach out and say: 'I'm here! _I_ am Optimus Prime!'

'But who would believe me?' Optimus thought bitterly.

"Well, you two can talk later," Lennox said as he leaned against Rodimus' leg. "Let's get you checked up and then I'm running you through a regiment that would leave a Marine exhausted."

Megatron grinned savagely. "I look forward to this test of yours."

Optimus sighed at Megatron before nodding solemnly. "You won't regret your decision."

"We'll see," Lennox said before he pushed off of Rodimus, saluted, and then said to Ratchet, "They're yours. You take 'em to the med center to get them looked at. I think that Mudflap, Skids, Sides or Sunny—perhaps _all_ of them—might need your services. Ironhide hasn't been in the best of moods recently."

Ratchet muttered something about trigger-happy old men and folded into his emergency vehicle before opening the back doors. "Get in _now_."

Optimus pushed a seething Megatron forward and had him nearly stumble into Ratchet's cabin.

Once he and Megatron were in the medic's cabin, the door shut firmly behind them and Ratchet said: "So, Orion, you are the one responsible for keeping Sunstreaker among the living?"

Optimus shifted in his seat and crossed his arms.

"I'll admit, I didn't know that I was—"

"—helping a sentient being stay alive," Ratchet finished for him, a small smile in his voice.

Optimus shrugged uncertainly. "He was a…challenge."

Ratchet snorted. "And that was _without_ him talking your ear off."

_Seems like they don't need you,_ Megatron commented.

Optimus winced and looked at Megatron, whose face was impassive, but his body was obviously tense.

_There's no use to insulting me just because you're nervous about walking calmly through the base of your enemies._

_I'm not scared,_ Megatron snapped.

_Sure you aren't,_ Optimus replied.

_It bothers you, though,_ Megatron pressed. _Here they are, the people you led for eons, and after a few months they seem to have forgotten you._

Optimus' eyes narrowed and he fought down a spike of anger as he covertly glared at Megatron.

"Not many people trust mercenaries," Ratchet said, his voice neutral. "So perhaps declaring yourselves to be such was a poor choice on your part."

Optimus shrugged slightly as Megatron said: "It beats having to do stupid programming and intel all day long. I'd much rather be where there is action. Fighting is in my blood, is what I was made to do. They'll find out soon enough just how much they've gained."

Ratchet made a noncommittal sound. "Perhaps."

Ratchet turned a corner and opened the door for the two Cybertronians-turned-human. "We're here. Get out so I can get back to my work. Why they got all worked up over just two people…"

"Nice to see you again. Orion, right?" Optimus heard someone say after he had stepped out of Ratchet's cabin and he turned to see Mikaela standing not too far away, tight jeans hugging her legs as a white tank-top stuck to her torso, damp from sweat.

Optimus nodded. "And you're Miss Mikaela?"

Mikaela laughed. "No need to be so formal," she said with a smile. "From the ruckus that Sunstreaker was making over you, you'd have thought you were Primus-incarnate."

Optimus smiled hesitantly. "I'm flattered, considering how little I was able to do."

Mikaela wiped her forehead with her arm and gave him a disbelieving look. "You did more than you'd think, especially with a Cybertronian. Looks like you were right when you said the car you were repairing was something special."

Optimus sighed. "I suppose."

Mikaela's attention shifted to Megatron and she treated him to a critical once-over. "Who's your friend?"

"Mikaela, meet 'tron. 'tron, Mikaela. She's the one that I sold the car—Sunstreaker—to."

Megatron regarded her coolly and gave her a slight tilt of his head in greeting. "Hello, Mikaela."

She frowned and Optimus gave Megatron a mental jab. _Behave!_

"Mikaela!"

Mikaeala yelled, "Coming!" She looked back to Optimus and said, "The boss-man calls. Human medics are next door, I'm sure that Ratchet downloaded everything he wanted to be done, if there was any extra tests he wants run on you—and he probably will, because your presence was annoying."

Megatron glowered as Mikaela walked away, and Optimus maneuvered the former-Decepticon towards the field hospital.

"Interesting place, huh?" a doctor said as they entered, catching Optimus' attention. "Used to be Air Force, but this place became less strategic, so they moved. Lucky us."

"I suppose," Optimus murmured. "Does anyone else know about…" Optimus gestured vaguely around them.

"All of the US military branches know of the 'bot's existence," the doctor replied. "And we've told the UK, although having Prowl crash there helped solidify that we weren't insane."

Optimus' lips twitched as Megatron sighed inwardly.

"Now, if you would mind, I need to draw some blood—just to check for pathogens, illegal drugs, and so forth. You can never be too careful anymore."

_You done anything illegal?_ Optimus asked.

Megatron rolled his eyes as he rolled up his sleeve. _Please, Prime. I'm not stupid enough to try any of those things—mostly because I didn't want to know if our former heritage would affect my body's reaction._

Optimus let himself be examined, mind elsewhere as the doctor's professional, impersonal hands and commands guided him.

'Sam…' Even after the very short interaction they had, Optimus could tell that Sam was more-and-less than human since he had last seen him. 'Perhaps it is as we feared,' Optimus thought dourly. 'No being, human or Cybertronian, can get away with handling and using both the All-Spark and Matrix without there being lasting effects.'

_Hey, Prime._

_Yes?_

_Who is Rodimus Prime? Last I checked you were the only Prime in existence._

_The Matrix of Leadership has certain special properties, as I'm sure you noticed. One of them is that it can be used to induct new Primes._

Megatron gave him a covert puzzled look. _I thought Primes were just…Primes._

Optimus gave Megatron the briefest flicker of a smile. _For a long time, yes. But, Primes can die and there is no real lineage. I was a no-one before I was _made_ a Prime._

_Before you were made the leader of an entire people._

_Now, with me gone, there are no Primes. So, obviously, a new one—a new _Cybertronian_ one—needed to be recruited._

_And one of your underlings have had that dubious distinction thrust on them?_

Optimus smiled tersely, glad no-one was watching. _His former name was Hot Rod—although I suppose he is now Rodimus Prime._

_Well, damn. They really are desperate to fill the gap that you left._ Megatron gave him a considering look. _Isn't Prowl your SIC? Shouldn't he have been the one to take over leadership?_

_Prowl is a very capable leader, but he isn't flexible enough to be a Prime, I fear,_ Optimus admitted. To his surprise and shame, Optimus felt a keen pang of loss and displacement just _speaking_ of being—or not-being—a Prime.

_Steady, Prime._

Optimus looked quickly over to Megatron, whose face was impassive and posture completely relaxed.

_You're not one of them anymore._

Optimus fixed his gaze on the ground before him as he struggled down the feeling of alienation.

'He's right. I'm not one of them—not now.'

"Alright, boys, you can go. You're fit enough for service, and I have no doubt that you're smart enough for it."

"Will we ever know the results of the bloodwork?" Megatron asked.

"Only if there's a problem," the doctor replied cheerfully. "Now, go away. I think Lennox was cackling over something with 'Hide regarding you two. Good luck—I have a feeling you'll need it."

Megatron sneered as he replaced his clothing and brushed non-existent dirt off him before exiting, Optimus one step behind.

_How long until one of us slips up and says or does something that betrays we might be more than we claim?_ Optimus asked, and Megatron rubbed the back of his neck.

_A week. If not less. Now that we're around Cybertronians and the military—both of whom are trained to be observant—it'll be easier to pick out abnormalities in our behavior._

"Pedersen. Tron."

Both turned to the speaker and walked over to where the speaker was—not Lennox, but another familiar face; Epps. Epps nodded to them, the typical smile absent from his face. The man was all business and obviously incredibly wary of two supposedly untrained, untried, strange men.

"Me an' Red Alert are going to be putting you through your paces, see what you're made of. If you're really cut out for what NEST demands."

Optimus nodded as Megatron crossed his arms to hide his agitation at being talked-down to.

_Why Red Alert? Wouldn't your insane weapons specialist be better?_ Megatron asked.

_Ironhide might be otherwise occupied, and why bother wasting his time if we don't measure up?_

_Hmph._

"Well, at least you're not complaining," Epps sighed.

Red Alert drove up behind them and transformed so that he loomed over them, tense—always tense.

"Well, now that he's here, we begin. You boys know how to shoot?"

Optimus nodded as Megatron crossed his arms and sneered.

"Can you shoot _well_?"

Optimus hesitated. "I don't know. I haven't held a weapon since—" he began before he promptly shut up.

"Name your target," Megatron said calmly, although there was a malicious twist to his lips.

_Behave,_ Optimus cautioned.

"Come on, then," Epps said cheerfully and turned, walking off to where Optimus assumed the target range would be.

_Are you really a good hand with a weapon still?_

_Did you really just ask that question?_

Optimus stifled a sigh.

Optimus felt Megatron looking around critically without seeming to pay any attention at all, which made Optimus sigh inwardly.

Each familiar face, both human and Cybertronian, sent a spike of pain through Optimus' heart, while the knowledge of the tie that kept him quiet ate at him.

'They're here—_I'm _here—and I can't say anything because…' Optimus shook himself inwardly. 'The truth will come out eventually—probably sooner rather than later, since Megs and I aren't used to calling each other by our human names and we're still not truly _human_.'

Epps brought them to the range and said, "Pick your weapon and show me what you can do with it."

Megatron went unhesitantingly over to the weapons rack, but Optimus followed a little slower.

'I have to correct for kick-back and I've never…' Optimus sighed quietly as his picked through the weaponry, choosing a basic handgun.

_You're not going to use that in the field._

_I know, but I haven't used a weapon since I became human._

Optimus was ashamed at how natural it felt to hold the weapon, how it was an odd sort of…comfort. It symbolized control, of no longer being helpless.

He walked up to the edge of the range and raised the gun, falling into what felt like a comfortable, familiar stance, regardless of whether or not it was typical of human posture.

He hit his mark every time, and Megatron's success rate was the same, the bullets going through the same hole every time, never deviating.

Once Optimus was out of bullets, he lowered the gun and looked at it in his hand—his _human_ hand—and sighed quietly.

_See, that wasn't so bad, Prime._

Optimus barely kept himself from wincing before he looked over to Megatron, who was obviously pleased with himself.

"That was some fancy shooting," Epps said, arms crossed over his chest. "If I hadn't had Red to confirm it for me, I would have thought you had missed every other shot save the first."

Optimus shrugged slightly as he put his borrowed weapon down and caught the superior smirk Megatron was wearing.

"Exam says you're in good physical shape," Epps commented. "Let's see if that's true."

Megatron quirked an eyebrow as Optimus sighed inwardly.

_Prime, this is _annoying.

_I know, I know, but we're unknowns. Who knows what kind of trai—_

Optimus dodged as Mudflap and Skids roared through where Optimus and Megatron had previously occupied before the younger twins drove frenzied circles around them andwent bolting off on whatever course plotted itself in their insane minds.

Optimus heard Megatron muttering uncomplimentary things about the two 'bots who had interrupted them.

Optimus caught both Epps and Red Alert giving them weighing looks before Red Alert said, "I think I have a way of testing your skills that will leave your martial prowess without question."

Megatron looked quickly to Optimus, who shrugged nearly imperceptibly.

"The two who just passed us were Skids and Mudflap," Red Alert said calmly. "We have a training course and special weapons that allow humans to train against us Autobots in preparation for battle with our…less benign counterparts. I want you to enter into mock combat with them. _That_ will show us, more than anything else, if you're prepared for what you will have to face."

_How long do you think that'd last? _Megatron asked.

_With their aim and ours, probably a while._

"We'll provide weapons and armor," Red Alert continued. "You simply have to fight against Skids and Mudflap."

"You make it sound easy," Megatron drawled, although there was contained excitement in his voice.

Optimus looked over to him before he sighed and returned his gaze to Epps and Red Alert. "Lead the way."

Red Alert folded into his alt form and Epps gestured for them to enter—which they did with less hesitation than before. While it was _odd, _knowing that one was riding with another sentient being, as _Optimus_ knew what it was like from the other side, it was something that could be adapted to.

Epps seemed to notice that, but refrained from commenting.

"Well, here we are, boys," Epps said cheerfully as they arrived in a large field covered with a variety of terrain—rocks, trees, sand pits, ditches, water, anything a demented mind could dream up smacked in the middle of a field in South Carolina. "We'll go get all your equipment, you take a moment to familiarize yourself with the area—gonna give you _that_ much an allowance."

Optimus took a slow look around, turning around in a circle to get a full view—as much as he could.

_Prime, tell me more about these two. I want to know what to anticipate so I can plan ways to slag them while making it seem perfectly reasonable._

Optimus sighed. _You know, it's bad when I hope that you succeed._

Megatron obviously suppressed a cackle. _So…?_

_They are unpredictable. It's equally likely that they will hit each other as hit us. If we get lucky, we'll win from them fighting each other. If we're not—_

_We'll win anyway,_ Megatron asserted with a small smirk. _You and I can still think like Cybertronians, know how they will fight, but they can't fathom how two humans alone would fight, hm?_

_We just have to make sure that their insanity doesn't win for them._

"Merry Christmas!" Epps said and dumped equipment at their feet. "Want help putting that on?"

Megatron simply picked it up and began to strap it on, which made Optimus give Epps a small, wry smile before beginning to suit up himself.

Epps said nothing.

_This isn't too bad—bulky, but not terribly heavy. From the way that some of the soldiers move, you'd think this'd way a ton,_ Megatron commented as he adjusted the gear on him.

Optimus gave a mental shrug. _We're not normal soldiers._

_True._

"Go take the positions you want; we'll let Skids and Mudflap after you once you're set."

Both former-Cybertronians nodded and moved into the field, finding cover that made each of them comfortable.

_Ready?_

_Always, Prime._

Optimus gave a signal and Mudflap and Skids came out, transforming once they came to a stop.

"Ya ready to be pwned?" Skids yelled, and Optimus felt Megatron roll his eyes.

Neither man responded, however, which started Mudflap and Skids scanning for them.

Optimus found he was distinctly aware of where Megatron was, could almost feel the Decepticon's heartbeat speed up. It was disconcerting, but considering the nature of what they had, he wasn't _entirely_ surprised.

Optimus smiled faintly. 'This is what Megatron is _meant_ to do, _made_ for.'

'But he's not the only one trained in warfare,' he thought and took careful aim as the twins half-battled each other, hitting each other and pulling at looser pieces of their frames. 'This isn't going to be easy, but we're going to _win_.'

Optimus pulled the trigger and sent off a round of bullets that arced across one of Skid's breastplates, more a distraction than anything that could harm him. It gave away his position, though, so he had to move quickly, dodging the larger shots from the two robots.

The dirt that the mock-Cybertronian weaponry sent up forced Optimus to close his eyes—although that didn't mean he couldn't see, a strange half-sight from Megatron allowing him to move to safety before one of the twins got a lock on him.

Optimus wiped the grit from his mouth as a strong rush of smug glee washed through him—the emotion was obviously not his own, so Optimus looked to where Megatron was, only to hear Mudflap cry out in surprise a moment later.

Optimus wasn't sure _how_ he knew, but he simply _did_—Megatron had managed to score a direct hit on one of Mudflap's optics, effectively blinding him with paint, and was unable to fully suppress his approval—afterall, it was a hard shot to make, as Cybertronian optics weren't all that large, considering the rest of their frame.

However, that didn't seem to deter Mudflap from being obnoxious and unpredictable—if anything, it made him even more effective due to that unpredictability. Mudflap and Skids had the strength of being erratic. It was nearly impossible to predict where they would strike next, but they gave enough warning through their constant bickering that Megatron and Optimus could avoid their attacks.

What Optimus found disturbing, though, was how in-sync he and Megatron were. It felt as natural as breathing, warning Megatron as Megatron pointed out weaknesses and openings.

_Looking left gun right will fire in 3 I see that but watch out for I know I know Mudflap out of large ammunition that's not good smaller bullets are harder to dodge not like he has very good aim yes well there's _move_ watch southeast unplanned bomb planted what the hell are these things it's complicated careful careful you're worried about me no just god _damnit_ that stings be more careful splinters can get dig in thanks for the warning shut up Mudflap nearly out of all effective ammunition but not out of stupid and inane quips it's all smokescreen I swear his opponents underestimate him it's not like he's skilled move right move right YOUR OTHER RIGHT I know what I'm doing think you can make the shot if I set it up for you I can make it even if you don't Skids is distracted he'll turn right in maybe not I'm learning to hate these two and you get to live with them Unicron preserve me do you see the opening let me get Skids' attention damn they're good at demolition why do you think we use them as advance team you mean you meaningfully cause confusion you'd be surprised how often that has won us against your peons watch out clear shot once Skids got it ha see that Prime very lucky Megs don't get cocky not a terrible shot yourself Prime maybe you have some skills shut up _

Optimus managed to blind Mudflap in the other eye as Megatron hit delicate wiring around his knee, which would have made it impossible for him to move and unable to further fight—although being blinded in general made it hard to maneuver, so he had to sit out, or else he'd be as much a danger to himself as to his brother, Megatron, and Optimus (not that he wasn't _always_ that way).

_he's inventive with his swears isn't he now it's just Skids but maybe that'll make things harder as there are no longer any distractions I think shiny things distract him watch out I see him I see him Unicron doesn't he get tired of talking not from my experience focus Megatron you worry about yourself careful careful to your left don't trip on that branch his back is to us don't have a good shot the glare off his armor is annoying why is it so hot _

Optimus found he was drenched in sweat, his undershirt sticking to him uncomfortably. He was beginning to tire, but it was nothing compared to the exhaustion that was dragging at Megatron. His muscles and skin were burning—_what time is it again?_—he was dehydrated, and his breathing was labored. His aim was getting farther and farther off mark, and Optimus was sure that a lucky shot from Skids would take him out of the game.

_You need a moment's rest? _Optimus asked as he felt Megatron leaning against a 'rock'.

_I'm fine, Prime, _Megatron snapped, although the weariness was unmistakable. _Worry about yourself._

However, Prime's concern proved true, as Megatron tripped over himself, which allowed Skids to get a solid hit on him, removing him from the field.

'Just you and me now,' Optimus thought as he licked his dry lips.

_What time is it anyway?_

_I don't give a fuck,_ Megatron answered, his voice full of irritation and exhaustion.

Optimus felt blind, deaf, and clumsy without Megatron nearby, but refused to lose.

"Come out, come out wherever y'are," Skids crooned in a sing-song, but Optimus could hear the frustration in his voice.

'Impatient,' Optimus thought before he simply settled down, quieted his harsh breathing, and _waited_.

Skids eventually grew tired of the silence and just started shooting at things randomly, yelling challenges and curses at Optimus, who simply smiled, closing his eyes against the sun in an attempt to alleviate a small headache.

_What the hell are you doing, Prime?_

_Letting him tire himself out. I'm low on ammunition, but so is he. If I know him, he'll just—_

The click-click-click of spent ammunition made Optimus smile faintly.

_See?_

_Sneaky, Prime. Very sneaky. You sure there isn't some Decepticon in you?_

_I share half your soul,_ Optimus drawled, and Megatron's laugh resounded in his mind as Optimus took careful aim and fired off a single shot.

It pinged right against what would lead to the delicate spark-casing in the 'bot.

Skids jumped in surprise and placed his hand where the fatal wound would have been, astonished.

Optimus appeared out of his hiding spot and said, "I think that means I win."

Skids stared, then snorted. "Jus' this time, squishy. 'll get y' back laeta."

Optimus walked out of the practice area, exhaustion beginning to weigh on him. Megatron was waiting for him in the cooler compound and handed him a bottle of water.

_I'm impressed, Prime. I didn't think you had the ability to take that particular shot._

Optimus smiled faintly before he barely kept himself from chugging the water.

_You'll be glad to know that our only audience was the NEST person and your CSO. It seems like there's either too much to do to attract a crowd or people were explicitly told to stay away._

_A blessing. Don't need more than two people knowing that we're already slightly more-than-human._

"Where did you learn to shoot like that?" Epps asked.

Megatron quirked an eyebrow and said, "In my previous profession."

Optimus shrugged and said, "My life has rarely been peaceful."

"Gotta wonder how you got those auto-repair skills, then," Epps quipped, and Optimus simply smiled tightly.

A surprisingly comfortable silence fell before Epps said, "Y'know, I think we've got something in you guys. The stamina, ingenuity, smarts, and teamwork you two exhibited are top-notch. You already proved yourself in combat, to an extent." Epp's lips pulled back in a wolfish smile. "I'd like to see how you'd do against more skilled opponents."

Optimus felt Megatron tense in anticipation, a hum of pleasure winding through the bond.

"Bring it," Megatron said, enthusiasm in his voice regardless of how exhausted his body was.

Epps clapped Megatron on the shoulder and said, "Maybe when you're not about to fall over. I'll discuss it with the others, but I'm pretty sure that they'll believe me, Red, Skids and Mudflap. Rest up, boys. Tomorrow promises to be interesting for you."

Megatron looked over to Optimus and gave him a tired grin. _Maybe I won't kill _him_ when I return to my true form._

Optimus simply shook his head in chagrin. _You really _are_ about to fall over. Let's get some water in you and then I'll drag you to wherever they're going to put us for a nap._

_I don't need a nap!_

_Yes, you do. I do, too. That wasn't easy. How long were we out there for?_

_Hours,_ Megatron said with a shrug.

Optimus hated it, but working with Megatron had somehow…secured the bond between them. The thoughts and ideas had simply _flowed_—Optimus would have been hard-pressed to discern where his thoughts ended and Megatron's began. It hadn't been conscious, and Optimus was sure that they wouldn't have done so _willingly_, but it was nevertheless true that it had been the edge that had secured their victory.

'He probably feels it, too,' Optimus thought with dismay. 'How it's harder to _care_ about how he's bound to me. It's not resignation, it just feels…_right_.'

Sam seemed to spontaneously appear before them, and Megatron was exhausted enough that his initial reaction to be surprised faltered and he simply jumped in place.

Sam gave them both a small, unsure smile. "Well, I'm to take you to your bunk in the barracks, which means that you guys passed whatever tests Epps set for you. I suppose congratulations are in order."

"Just take me to somewhere I can lie down," Megatron growled.

Sam was unphased by Megatron's bad mood and took them to a shared space in the barracks, which they would share with two other soldiers—which led to Optimus unpacking their belongings as MEgatron drifted off to a deep, exhausted sleep.

_Prime? _Megatron half-asked sleepily.

_Yes?_

_How the _hell_ did we manage this?_

Optimus smiled faintly and shrugged as he folded a pair of jeans. _Your guess is as good as mine, Megs._

Optimus stood still, his jeans still held over his arm, a thought slowly rolling over him.

'Perhaps this won't be bad. Perhaps they'll grow to see Orion and 'tron so that when Optimus and Megatron are finally revealed, Bad Things won't immediately happen.'

It was a heartening thought, and got Optimus through unpacking the rest of their clothes before passing out himself.


End file.
